Christmas in the Summertime
by ElliQuinn
Summary: Carter and Reese are sent on a mysterious errand by Finch. Began as Christmas fluff from the Meetings AU. Not much actually happens, but if you want a break from constant danger and just want to hang out with Joss and John this might be the fic for you!
1. Chapter 1

Joss stepped inside the apartment, closing the door behind her and shaking off the cold as she moved about. She shed her coat and wet shoes, put away the groceries she'd grabbed on the way home, switched on lights and closed curtains as she tried to decide which leftovers to reheat for dinner tonight: a dull, soothing domestic routine. She was peering again into the refrigerator, wondering whether that pasta was still okay when she heard the door open behind her. John came through, a slight frown furrowing his brow as he checked his phone. Uh-oh. Surely he wasn't being called out again? It was nearly Christmas Eve, for God's sake. Finch's Machine had been running them ragged for the last week. Surely it was time for a break?

"Don't tell me. Let me guess. Another Number?" she asked resignedly.

He glanced up from his phone. "No, actually. Look."

The message was from Finch, all right. But all it said was "A side project for you both. La Guardia, 20:25. Domestic Terminal. Bring passports."

She passed the phone back to him, a frown furrowing her own brow. "What in the world is that all about?"

John shrugged as he took the phone. He called up Finch's number and tried calling, but was only sent immediately to voice mail. "So, Carter. What do we do?"

She leaned back against the kitchen counter. "If Finch is sending us out of the country I would think we'll be gone over Christmas. I can't say I had many plans, Taylor being in Aspen with his college friends and all."

"There's the Numbers though..."

"I can't see Finch sending us away if he didn't have cover. It must be something important, John."

"Yeah," he sighed. He looked horribly tired to her. She grabbed his hand and pulled him in for a hug. "Is there time for dinner?" he mumbled plaintively into her hair.

"Uh..." she glanced at the clock on the wall. "There's only that pasta from last week. How about we get something at the airport?" There was a faint cry of protest from the tired man in her arms, but he disentangled himself from her and trudged off to pack.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

There was another text message from Finch as they reached La Guardia, directing them to the check-in counter for United Airlines. "A red-eye to LA," Reese commented as he handed Carter her boarding pass.

"Huh. LA, and then God knows where," she commented thoughtfully. They made their tired way across the concourse to a hole-in-the-wall Thai place and collected their usual: pad thai for her, massaman curry for him. Reese was frowning as he dropped into his seat. "Not quite God knows where," he said as he picked at his food. "We can't be heading to Europe or Africa. Asia, I guess, most likely. Hong Kong? Or Tokyo, maybe..." his voice dropped away into an exhausted mutter. They finished eating, then sat in silence until their flight was called. They didn't talk much as they shuffled aboard and found their seats. The cabin crew dimmed the lights, and Reese allowed himself to sink into sleep, lulled by the muted roar of the jet engines.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

LAX in the small hours of the morning was… busy. And brightly lit. Joss rubbed the gum from her eyes as they stumbled out onto the main concourse. John's phone buzzed. This time Finch had sent them an audio file.

"I'm sorry about the somewhat brutal schedule I'm putting you through," he said. "Your flight leaves in three hours. There's a package I've arranged for you to collect at the FedEx desk containing some items you'll need where you're going. Please don't open it until you get there. John, I have to ask you to divest yourself of all weaponry you might be carrying. You won't need it and it might cause unnecessary complications. Check in again at the United counter over in the international terminal. Good luck."

Joss peered at John as the message ended. "This had better be important, you know," she grumbled. John shrugged agreement as they made their way to the FedEx counter, which was what seemed like several miles away. The package was large, squashy and when Joss peeked in through a corner of the bag, wrapped in gaudy Christmas paper. Good camouflage for whatever it contained, she supposed. Then they faced the long hike back down the terminal to collect their luggage and find the shuttle bus to the international terminal.

The big surprise came when they found out their destination.

"Auckland, New Zealand?" Joss's nose wrinkled in surprise. "What would Finch want us to do there?"

John was just as puzzled. "I've never been there. Never heard of anything going on there, either."

"It's a twelve hour flight. Oh, God." Suddenly Carter felt like crying.

John reached over and snugged her in against his side. "If you want to bail out, Carter, just say the word. I can deal with this myself." She looked up at him and he studied her face. "You look, um, really tired."

She hugged him hard around his waist. "No. you're stuck with me." Another hug. "Besides, you look wrecked, too."

That brought a smile. "Well, I guess between us we might just about add up to one functioning human being. C'mon. At least the seats are first class."

The tickets included passes to the VIP lounge, thank God. They slumped in soft armchairs while they waited for their call. Then in a haze of fatigue they stumbled onto the flight to Auckland, stretched out in the delightfully long and soft and _fully reclinable_ seats, and allowed the big jet to rumble and scream its way across the Pacific.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

"Carter. Wake up." It was early afternoon local time, and they were descending. Reese felt surprisingly alert. His hard-won knack of sleeping on airplanes had stood him in good stead. Carter had been much more restless, he could see. She squinted at him through sticky eyes.

"Is there coffee?" she groused.

"No, but there's a great view. Take a look."

She flinched slightly at the bright light as she glanced out the window. "Very pretty. Coffee."

He tamped a smile down. 'Very pretty' was a bit of an injustice. Rugged, forested hills dropped away into azure waters. A couple of sailboats were out there on the harbour and as they roared overhead on their approach path he saw them both come around in a tack at the same moment. Then they were over land, a single wide runway with very green grass either side and down the central strip. A gentle thud as the wheels touched down, and they had arrived.

They were still queueing at Customs when Reese's phone went again. This time it was Harold in person. Joss leaned in close to listen in, and he obligingly tilted the phone a little so she could hear.

"I take it you've arrived safely?" Harold's voice sounded clear as a bell. The wonders of technology.

"We have," replied Reese. "So what's up, Harold? You've been awfully mysterious, even for you."

"Well, actually, what's up is… you're on vacation. Both of you."

"What?" squeaked Carter, her voice blending with his own. The customs queue moved forward, and they shuffled with it.

"Yes. I've been watching you both getting more and more exhausted, and so I've sent you on vacation. Somewhere far enough away that you can't just get on a plane back here. Somewhere quiet and restorative. You have three weeks and a rental car booked. I've taken the liberty of renting a hotel room near the airport where you can freshen up. But tomorrow you can make the last leg of your journey, if you like. I've got you a holiday home, what the locals apparently call a "bach" on a beach at a place called Otama."

Reese could feel his jaw dropping. The queue moved again. "What about the Numbers, Finch?"

"I have that handled, Mr Reese." Finch paused on the other end of the phone. "I can't prevent you from simply turning around and coming back. But I hope you'll take me up on this offer. There's no cell phone coverage at Otama. Just a beach and a few homes. Take some time for yourselves, recharge your batteries." The queue shuffled forward one last time.

Reese knew when he'd been railroaded. He sighed. "Okay, Finch. We'll stay. And… thanks."

"You're welcome, Mr Reese."

"Anything to declare?" asked the bored customs lady.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

The airport hotel was like hotels everywhere, but the shower was intensely welcome. Their little suite had a decent bed, a TV and a sofa. The décor was anodyne – buff-coloured walls and maroon drapes and scatter cushions. The walls were decorated with photos of some kind of tree native to these parts, Joss supposed: dark green foliage and deep red flowers jammed so tightly together the trees were pure scarlet in some places. She decided to try to stay awake until dark, at least. While the view out the window was nothing to write home about in this part of town, she was grateful for the gust of warm air which came in as she opened the sliding door to emerge onto the little balcony. Of course, it wasn't winter here, it was summer. Christmas in the summertime – who'd have thought?

John emerged from the shower as she stepped back indoors. "So have you opened that package from Finch?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah. I'd forgotten all about that one." She went over to the shelf they'd dumped their bags on and dug it out from the pile. John produced his knife from somewhere – _How did he get that through customs? Maybe better not to ask_ – and slit the package open. The brightly-wrapped parcel within slipped out, and she pulled the paper apart.

A swimsuit – scarlet like the flowers on the trees. Swimming trunks for John, plain black with scarlet piping, subdued but screaming quality in the sleek fabric. The Lonely Planet guide for New Zealand. There was a card inside the cover of the book. _Enjoy your stay_ , Finch had written. _Remember they drive on the left here!_ There were two platinum credit cards in with his note.

Joss flopped down on the bed. "Well. That man never does things by halves, does he. I wonder how much of this place we can see in three weeks?"

John flopped down next to her. "Right now, Carter, I'd rather see other things." His smirk was out in full force, she noticed.

"Typical. We come off a twelve-hour flight and all you can think of is sex."

His smirk did not falter.

"Not that I'm complaining, mind," she added as she reached for him.

To be continued….


	2. Chapter 2:

The next morning they were both up bright and early, feeling all the better for some sleep. And other things. It was December 23rd here, a day ahead of the States, and early summer instead of bitter winter. Reese felt a spring in his step as he loaded their bags into the car. Getting in on the right-hand side to drive was slightly novel, and for a little while he had to concentrate as he steered through the morning traffic on the wrong side of the road. Carter was sitting leafing through the guidebook. "Huh. Those trees, John – the ones in the photographs on the wall back there. They're called" - she paused to sound out the unfamiliar name out - "pohutukawa trees. Also known as the New Zealand Christmas Tree, because they flower at this time of the year."

Shit. Christmas! He suddenly realised that in the rush of nine Numbers in the last ten days he hadn't gotten her a present. Oh, well. Hopefully there would be a chance to pick something up in the next couple of days. Maybe even something he wouldn't have been able to get in New York. If a former Spec Ops guy couldn't rustle something up, there was something wrong. Improvisation was supposed to be his strong suit, wasn't it? The GPS alerted him to the on-ramp for the Southern Motorway out of town, and he was forced to concentrate on driving again.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

The traffic was heavy, but not insane as they drove south. It seemed that Auckland was beginning to empty out for the holiday. They stopped to top up the tank with some gas, and the attendant told them they were wise not to leave their drive any later: "It'll get crazy tomorrow," he told them. "Half the bloody town heads off to the Coromandel for Christmas. Traffic jams for miles at the Kopu bridge."

"What's that?' asked Reese.

"Well, until recently it was a two-lane bridge that was the main route from Auckland to the Coromandel Peninsula. Jammed solid every long weekend. Where are you headed?"

"Um, Otama," said Reese.

"Never heard of it."

"It's near, er, Whitianga," put in Joss.

The gas station guy smiled. "You pronounce it with an 'f' – Fitty-anga. But yeah, that's on the Pacific coast of the Coromandel. Nice beaches along there." The pump finished, Joss went inside to pay and as they departed the guy gave them a friendly wave and a smile and mouthed "Merry Christmas!" to them.

Their journey took them south over a range of hills and through farm land beyond as they left the city behind them. A big green sign – another of those things that were the same everywhere, Reese supposed – directed them to turn left for the Coromandel Peninsula. More farm land, green rolling hills, a winding, quite narrow road. Black and white cows in the pastures. A milk tanker they sat behind until they reached a passing lane. It was almost lunch time when they crossed the infamous bridge, apparently recently widened to four lanes. Reese glanced across at Joss. "We can keep going, or we can turn off here and have lunch. What do you say?"

She stretched in her seat. "Lunch. I need to stretch my legs anyway." So they turned left for a place called Thames and after a few minutes drove slowly up the main street of a small town, passing a Honda dealership, the public library and a supermarket. Joss had been reading the guidebook again. "The north end of the main drag has some nice places to eat, John." There were plenty of people out in the sunshine doing their Christmas shopping, and they had to turn down a side street, away from the shops and cafés to find a parking space. Parking was free, though, and it was such a nice day Reese couldn't grudge the short walk. They strolled arm in arm back to the little shopping area. This proved to be older and quainter than the southern end, small boutique retailers and eateries packed together in Victorian buildings with awnings set out over the sidewalk.

"This one looks, nice, John," said Joss. It was a tiny little place, three tables on the sidewalk and about four inside. "The Tea Rose", the sign said, and it was all dainty doilies and fine china within. Reese smiled sardonically. He felt like a wolf in a lady's boudoir in here, but if it made Joss happy…

After lunch they strolled a little further. One store was unabashedly tourist-oriented, and so they wandered inside to see what was on offer. Reese felt strange. He couldn't put his finger on the source of this feeling, or what it was really, but it wasn't unpleasant. He turned his attention to the wares the shop offered. Some were pretty tacky – plastic key rings with "Thames, N.Z." emblazoned on them or dish cloths, which the locals called 'tea towels', in a variety of designs which seemed to run heavily to curving black, white and red Maori motifs and kiwi birds. There was some nice knitwear, though the weather was too warm to contemplate wearing it. He supposed it might be useful for New York when they got back. Joss didn't seem that taken with any of it, though. They left the shop and wandered a little further. "Hey, Joss. Do you mind if we split up for a while? I've got, umm..." he trailed off, but Joss seemed agreeable. "Okay. Meet you back at the Tea Rose in half an hour?"

"Sure thing, Carter," he said, and they parted company.

Just down the street there was another store, this time a co-operative run by local artists and crafters. Less tourist tack here, but the prices were correspondingly higher. Pottery, art glass. Screen printed silk scarves, carved wooden bowls and other utensils. His eye was caught by some jewellery under the counter - carved pendants in bone or ivory, maybe. There were other pieces in some luminous green material, a semiprecious stone perhaps. He leaned over the case, looking more closely. Most of the pendants were more of the sinuous Maori patterns – stylised fish-hooks or spirals hung on fine cord or braid instead of gold or silver chain. But in one corner he noticed a group of very simple ones, rectangles bound with cord at one end and tapering slightly outwards to a chisel-shaped tip at the other. These were all in the green stone, polished to a smooth matte finish. The sales assistant, a young woman with black hair and warm brown skin, noticed his attention and she wandered over. "They're lovely, aren't they? They're all made locally out of either whale bone or greenstone." She smiled.

"Greenstone? Is that what it's called?"

"Nephrite jade - greenstone, or pounamu back in the old days. For the old people, back in pre-European times, it was like gold. Hard to find and difficult to work, so only the most precious objects were made of it."

He glanced up at her. "Where does the whale bone come from? I mean, from whales obviously, but how do they get hold of it?"

"We don't hunt the whales," the woman told him slightly defensively. "But if a dead one washes up on the beach, the local Maori tribe has a customary right to take any bone they want. It doesn't happen often, but you can get a helluva lot of bone carvings out of one whale."

"I guess so," he agreed, coming to a sudden decision. "I'm looking for a Christmas present. For my fiancée."

The sales girl smiled. "Ah. I see."

"I liked that one there." He pointed to a rectangle in a glowing green – kind of like the engagement ring which flashed on her finger, now he came to think of it.

"Yes, it's a nice one, isn't it. But that's a stylised adze – a toki. It's a man's design, representing courage and strength. For a woman you'd want one like this." She indicated a pendant which was a complex spiral twisting around itself like a vortex frozen in stone. "The double twist is a feminine design, and it represents the love and loyalty between two people."

He gazed at it for a second or two, and then just knew it was _right_. "I'll take it," he said.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

He wandered along the street a while longer, since he hadn't anticipated finishing so quickly. Back at the Tea Rose, he found Joss sitting at a table outside nursing a coffee. She looked up and smiled as he approached. "John, I was talking to the lady inside," she said. "It seems there's another route to Whitianga – longer, but very scenic. We aren't in a hurry, are we?"

"How much longer?"

"Maybe a couple of hours. We head north from here and basically drive up one side of the peninsula, cross over and come down on Otama from the north, instead of going across the base of the peninsula and coming up from the south. What do you think?"

He gave a tiny shrug. "Okay. Whatever you like, Joss. We're on vacation, remember?"

"She said, be prepared for some very winding road, though."

The lady at the Tea Rose wasn't kidding. The road north hugged a rugged coastline, climbing and descending and twisting like a roller coaster – though admittedly they weren't making anything like the speed of a roller coaster. But the slow speed allowed Reese to dart the odd glance out of the window, and the views were worth it. For much of the way north the pohutukawa trees were everywhere, clinging onto sheer cliffs, towering over the road, leaning out over the sparkling blue-green water. They were in full bloom, and in places the road was deep red too, covered in millions of red filaments dropped from the trees above. Joss buzzed the window down, and the warm air flowed in bringing with it the smell of the sea. After a while the road turned inland, and they climbed through steep, sheep-cropped pasture. Finally they emerged up onto the highest point of the road.

"Oh," breathed Joss. They pulled to a stop at a roadside lookout, as many travellers had doubtless done before them, and got out. Spread out before them was a landscape of hills and sea. Narrow inlets, little bays and tiny offshore islands stretched away ahead of them until they were lost in a pale blue mist at the horizon. It was all blues and greens – eggshell blue sky, deep blue sea paling to jade green in the shallows. The grass on the hills was bright green, shading to gold on the hilltops, with little patches of dark green trees. Further away the hills climbed higher and steeper, and the pasture gave way to the native forest, deep green with occasional splashes of the pohutukawas' red. The breeze was cooler up here, and the sun sparkled on the water off in the distance. A car hissed by behind them. Apart from that it was silent. Reese felt some accumulated tension in him finally release, bathed away by sunshine and quiet. The strange feeling he'd had before was back, stronger. He realised what it was. Pleasure, and joy. Simple relaxation. He hugged Joss to him, and they stood and enjoyed the view.

To be continued...


	3. Chapter 3:

After a while they got back in the car. Joss took a turn behind the wheel. The road twisted and turned downhill now, and Joss found herself riding the brakes down to the bottom. They debated whether to go into Coromandel township or take the turning for the road to Whitianga, but it was getting later now. "We can save it for another day, maybe," said John, and Joss was inclined to agree. So the right turn for the road over the hills it was. More climbing, more twisting up to another lookout. They got out again to check out the view – very different from the hills overlooking the sea. It had clouded over, and the view was all brooding primeval forest. Joss wouldn't have been surprised if a dinosaur had poked its head out from behind one of those huge tree-ferns on the steep slope opposite. The breeze was distinctly chilly now, and they got back in the car and kept driving.

It was getting late in the afternoon when they reached a more heavily-trafficked part of the road. The forest was behind them, and they were back in farmland. The clouds had drifted away, and the sun was shining brightly again. Suddenly the GPS announced that they should turn left in two hundred meters. Sure enough, there was a turning with a small yellow sign pointing down it. OTAMA BEACH, it read.

The narrow road narrowed further. After a few minutes Joss slowed. There were cars everywhere, and people and children crossed the road in front of them, heading for a café and general store off to the right. "Is this it?" she said uncertainly.

"I don't think so," said John cautiously.

"Turn right fifty meters," said the GPS.

Carefully Joss drove at walking pace through the crowds. There was a beach off to the left, a parking lot jammed with cars and vacationing people everywhere. But sure enough, to the right the road continued, climbing steeply up yet another hill. She made the turn, and the car climbed steadily away from the beach. Another turn, and they were back in sight of the sea. As the crowds dropped away behind them the road changed to gravel and she slowed down again. Trailing an impressive dust cloud, they made their way along the hillside, slowing nearly to walking pace as the road became narrower and windier and steeper. At last they rounded a final hairpin bend and began the precipitous descent towards the coast line. Dark trees below them – at least there was something to break their fall if they slid off this damn road, thought Joss. The sun was glaring into her eyes from the right, making them water. But they seemed to be approaching, well, something. Mailboxes began appearing at the side of the road – some rusted metal, some seemingly home-made weathered wood. There were no numbers here, just people's names for the mailman. Baker. Ngarimu. George. A track led from the road down the hill to a white house with peeling paint and a rusty tin roof; "Jones", the mailbox by the galvanised metal gate read. The road flattened out as they reached the beach. Blue water lapped on the white sand of a long, shallow indentation in the coastline. At one end, cliffs fell down to rocks. At the other end the sand stretched towards a low headland. The pohutukawas were everywhere, of course, except where the beach sand ran up into grass-covered dunes. Two mobile homes were parked on a patch of grass under some trees. A woman walked on the beach, a big black dog loping around her and trotting in and out of the sea.

"Well, we're here," said John.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

The booking confirmation Finch had sent to Reese's cell the previous night directed them to the holiday home's owner, a residence tucked away discreetly among the trees. "Grant", the mailbox read. They felt their way slowly up a steep (what else?) driveway. The lady of the house was a sprightly old woman who greeted them with smiles. "You carry on past the house and then downhill again. There's a nice big turning area down the bottom, so you don't need to worry about backing all the way back up here. You asked for the fridge and cupboards to be stocked up, so everything's there for you." She passed them the keys. "Enjoy your stay."

The sun was sinking behind the hills as they emerged into the clearing at the bottom of the hill. It was almost completely silent as they got out of the car. Waves hissed on the beach, only twenty or thirty yards away.

Reese unlocked the back door of the house. It opened into the kitchen, all glossy new appliances and a marble bench top. They walked through into a large living room. The wooden floor was polished to a high shine, and hand-knotted oriental rugs adorned it. A black leather lounge suite faced a huge picture window which looked out on the white beach, and the waves of the sparkling Pacific Ocean, stretching all the way to the horizon. Next to the window was a sliding door which led out onto a patio with a picnic table and an umbrella, furled now.

They stood for a moment, contemplating the view. Then Reese tore himself away to go get their bags.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

They were getting hungry by the time they unpacked. The main bedroom was up some stairs: another picture window facing the bed and a small balcony facing to the side. Joss opened the sliding door to let in some fresh air. A burst of unfamiliar, melodic birdsong came to her from the forested hillside. She clattered downstairs again to find John peering in the fridge.

"That lady wasn't kidding when she said we had everything we needed. Finch must've given her a blank check." He pulled smoked salmon, salad greens and potato salad from the fridge while Joss found plates. In a pantry there were fresh bread rolls, a choice of wines and salad dressing. It didn't take long for them to assemble a meal. They carried their plates into the living room and then out onto the patio and sat eating while the waves hissed on the beach. They didn't talk much – there didn't seem much need for words right now. After they finished John stacked the dishwasher while Joss put away the leftovers.

"Walk on the beach?" asked Joss as they finished. John smiled down at her.

"Sounds great." It seemed the height of luxury to simply step out the door and across a few yards of grass onto what might as well be their own private beach. A seagull soared overhead, dipping its wings a little with some tiny fluctuation of the wind. They walked slowly, hand in hand. The sun was down now, a long twilight gradually deepening. The sky was taking on violet tones, and a small feather of cloud up high in the sky was lit in pinks and oranges. The lady with the dog was back on the beach too. The dog, a black Labrador, gambolled up, wet and grinning. His owner, a tall, dark-haired young woman, strolled over too. "Good evening," she said. "Sam, you horrible dog," she added as the dog shook himself all over them. "I'm so sorry!"

"Never mind," Joss said, laughing.

"Are you from around here?" asked John. The woman reattached a leash to the dog. "Sit!" she said sternly. The dog sat, and the woman shifted her attention back to the couple in front of her.

"Yes, I'm Abby Lee. We've got a bach down the other end of the beach. You're renting the Grant place, are you?"

"Yes, that's right," said Joss.

"I've heard it's gorgeous- oh, look!" Abby pointed out to sea, and Joss and John turned to see. Several tall black fins could be seen a few hundred yards out. As they watched, the fins turned and began to move along, parallel with the shore.

"Orca," identified Abby. "They come inshore some evenings to hunt sharks and stingrays."

"Wow," said Joss. They all stood in silence for a few minutes, watching as the broad black backs of the patrolling orca occasionally broke the surface. "So, um, this isn't such a great swimming beach, then?" Joss asked.

Abby glanced at her with a sudden grin. "Oh, don't worry. From Boxing Day onwards the local surf lifesaving club will patrol the beach. As long as you swim in the patrolled area, between the flags they place, you're safe. The orca don't come in all that much - only when the weather and tide conditions are right for them, I suppose."

"Oh. That's a relief." Joss remembered her manners. "I'm Joss, by the way, and this is John."

"Nice to meet you," said Abby. Sam got up from where he had been sitting and began to fidget. "Well, I can see my time is up. I'm sure I'll see you around," said the woman, gathering up the lead and giving them a friendly smile.

They parted company and continued their walk. After a while it was nearly full dark. The moon was almost full, peering over the hills above them, and the tide was turning, bringing the water gradually closer. The breeze had dropped away as they reluctantly turned their steps back towards the beach house.

The last couple of days' travelling seemed to catch up with them simultaneously. As they came in the door Joss found herself yawning fit to crack her jaw. "I know it's not that late, John, but I'm beat."

"Yeah, I could do with a sleep too, Joss." He was looking tired again.

Up in the bedroom they left the blind over the picture window open so they could watch the moonlight on the water. They didn't watch for long, though.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

One of the disadvantages of leaving that blind open was that the window faced east, Reese realised as he woke up. The sun was rising into another clear blue sky, and there was no chance at all of going back to sleep with it pouring in like that. He lay for a while, watching Carter as she slept, then got up quietly and went downstairs.

He dug in the kitchen cupboards and found that this place was unusually well-equipped. There was a waffle-maker in the back of one cupboard; inspired, he dug some more and found a tin of syrup – not maple, but it would do. And there were fresh strawberries in the fridge...By the time Joss made her appearance he had the first waffles sitting under a plate in the warmer.

But once breakfast was over, there was a problem.

"So, what do we do today?" asked Joss.

"Hm. I guess we walk on the beach. Might want to hold off on swimming until the lifeguards get here in a couple of days."

Carter was looking restless. She walked over to the window, stared out at the sea, then padded back over to him. "Let's go exploring, John."

His brows rose. "Where?"

"Well, we could go and see what there is at Whitianga. It's only about half an hour away by road."

Reese shrugged. He might have guessed that simply lying on a beach wouldn't be Carter's style.

"Okay. Let's go see what New Zealanders do on Christmas Eve."

To be continued….


	4. Chapter 4

What New Zealanders did on Christmas Eve, it seemed, was the same thing everyone else did: shopping. The main street of Whitianga was choked with traffic, and even the expedient of turning down a side street in the hopes of parking didn't help much. The parking was still free, but they faced a long hike towards the shopping area. So instead they walked in the opposite direction, towards the beach.

Despite Joss's suspicion that the entire population of the town was on the main street, there seemed to be plenty of people on the beach, too. Someone was kite surfing further down, and there were two people with kayaks paddling along beyond the surf. Nearby a mother and father were escorting their toddler into the waves, one holding each hand. She dangled briefly between them, swinging her legs and slapping her feet into the water with delighted squeals. Joss smiled at the sight. John followed her glance. He smiled too, but with that tinge of sadness he always seemed to have when he saw something like this. It was so unfair that a man who loved kids would never have any of his own. She squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back.

"Can you stand some shopping, Joss? There are a few things I need to get hold of. Sunglasses, and maybe some flip-flops." It was certainly true that their hasty packing had run heavily to winter-type gear, much of which they didn't have a use for here.

"Sure, John. Let's do that." They retraced their steps, and eventually wound up back on the main shopping street. One store was selling t-shirts; Joss ducked inside and left John cooling his heels out on the sidewalk, which was just as well – she couldn't resist buying him a silly shirt with Santa on the front and the text "Ho ho, I've been to Hahei" - Hahei being a small town with a nice beach just down the coast, she was given to understand. She determined that they would go there before they left, so the slogan would even be true.

Christmas shopping in summer wasn't unalloyed joy, Joss realised quickly. There was a serious disconnect between the icons of midwinter which were festooned around the shops and the hot, sticky reality. It seemed New Zealanders still bought into snowmen and icicles and holly, despite the blazing sunshine outside. Joss had nothing but pity for a sweating Santa in the town's small department store, cocooned in his fake beard and plush red suit with fans and aircon running on full and making very little impact.

They were able to find almost everything they wanted in the one store – sunglasses and flip-flops, some more respectable summer clothing, a couple of beach towels and an electric adapter which would allow Joss to plug her hair dryer into the weirdly-shaped electric sockets they had hereabouts. Back out on the street they passed an ice cream parlour doing a roaring trade; John went in this time and eventually emerged with two pistachio waffle cones. They strolled back to the car, licking their cones fast as the hot sun rapidly melted the ice cream into sticky dribbles.

"I wonder if it's snowing in New York?" Joss said happily.

"Could be. It was heading into the low forties when we left," said John. "Poor bastards," he added reflectively.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

They stopped off at the supermarket and bought steaks for dinner and maple syrup to supplement the other stuff in the pantry, more salad greens and more fresh bread. On the way out of town Joss noticed a sign outside a church. "Carols by candlelight, John! We should go tonight."

Reese wasn't altogether sure he was up for carol singing, but since when had he ever been able to deny Joss anything? He nodded agreement. The road back over the hill to the beach was as ...interesting… as ever, and quite a bit busier than the previous day. Their vacation nirvana was filling up, he thought with disappointment. But when they reached the bottom of the hill there was only one more trailer parked under the pohutukawas. The number of people on the beach had doubled to four, plus a guy standing on the rocks at the end of the bay with a fishing rod. Most people seemed to be staying on the other side of the hill.

The afternoon passed quietly. Reese accepted the awful t-shirt from Joss, but exacted a pleasant compensation from her; they lay in a warm doze for more than an hour before they got up to prepare dinner. He cooked the steaks while Joss made pepper sauce to go with; crusty rolls and green salad completed their feast, along with a glass of a nice pinot noir from the cupboard. Given the road, Reese passed on a second glass. As the sun edged towards the hills they changed into some smarter clothes, more suitable for a carol service, and Reese nosed the car up the switchback of a driveway.

The church was a small wooden structure. They joined the little throng of locals, and maybe the odd tourist, filing in. A smiling older lady handed them small candles as they passed her; Reese worried briefly about the fire hazard. The interior was all panelled wood, with wooden pews. The walls were varnished up to about shoulder height, and then painted pale cream right up to the raftered roof. There was no decoration, apart from the cross at the front, a nativity scene next to the pulpit, and an honour roll of war dead up on the back wall. As the final shafts of sunlight through the windows faded, the flickering candles in their hands provided most of the illumination.

As it turned out, they were the best-dressed people in the church. Most people were in flip-flops, jeans or shorts and t-shirts. Reese felt like a fish out of water, the more so when the singing started. Joss, it seemed, had a nice singing voice and seemed to know all the carols. His own voice, he feared, was nothing to write home about. He half-knew some of the traditional carols, but singing about some baby born two thousand years ago seemed a bit pointless. What about all those babies _now_ , the ones sick or deprived or in danger in war-torn countries? Or in supposedly safe ones. He still felt the flush of anger from one of their recent Numbers, a kid beaten to death by her mother's boyfriend.

Absorbed in these thoughts, he failed to notice as they began the final carol, _Hark the Herald Angels Sing._ It was only on the final stanza he began to pay attention.

 _Hail the heav'n-born Prince of Peace!_

 _Hail the Son of Righteousness!_

 _Light and life to all He brings_

 _Ris'n with healing in His wings_

 _Mild he lays His glory by_

 _Born that man no more may die_

 _Born to raise the sons of earth_

 _Born to give them second birth_

 _Hark! The herald angels sing_

" _Glory to the new-born King!"_

Healing? Second chances? He was all for that. Maybe there was something in this Christmas thing after all, aside from the vacation and the presents.

The carol ended and the little crowd of people began to shuffle out. The service had been short, less than an hour, and there was still a glow in the sky from where the sun had set. Purple-orange clouds streaked the horizon as they got back in the car. "There's still time for another walk on the beach before it gets completely dark," said Joss.

Reese nodded. Back over the hill again – he could see now why most of the visitors chose to stay at the more easily accessible spot, even if he didn't necessarily agree with them. They parked the car and walked down to the beach. Reese shed socks and shoes at the edge of the grass, and Joss kicked off her sandals. It was deep dusk as they set off, enjoying the sensation of the soft damp sand between their toes. Reese gazed out to sea – no patrolling orca tonight. He wasn't sure whether he was disappointed or relieved.

The moon was well up by now, compensating for the loss of light. Off at the other end of the beach Reese could see another couple walking. The small black shape of a dog lolloped around them: probably Sam. He put his arm across Carter's shoulders.

"So how do you like your vacation so far, Joss?" he said softly.

"Mm. I like it fine," she said dreamily after a pause.

They walked on in the moonlight.

"Kinda wish it could go on forever," she added after a moment.

He smiled bitterly. "Yup. Me too."

They kept walking.

"Wonder what Finch would do if we said we weren't coming back?" Joss continued.

He shook his head. It was impossible to imagine, the same way it was impossible to imagine a square circle. It just didn't compute.

"I wanted to run away once when I was a kid," he said into the soft twilight. "I was about five or six. I had this idea I could go find my Dad. But when I tried to figure out how to go about it I realised I didn't know what you did when you ran away. Like, where did you _sleep_? And if you couldn't get you shoelaces to tie right, who would help you? So I never did."

"Yeah." Joss slipped her arm around his waist. "But just think, John. What if one day there were other people to deal with the Numbers? What if the Machine decided you and Finch had had enough? Do you think you could ever come away, find somewhere quiet and restful and, and just... _be_?"

He turned the idea over in his mind. The Numbers needed him, all right. But he needed the Numbers, too. That sense of purpose, of a mission. The army and then the CIA had provided it, until it all went south. He realised that Finch had found an addict and given him exactly the fix he needed. And it was an addiction he'd embraced. He still embraced it. But what if he was no longer needed? If the Machine ever turned off the tap, directed the Numbers elsewhere – what would he become then?

A scrabble of paws on sand interrupted his thoughts. Sam had arrived, complete with a stick in his mouth. He dropped it in front of them and turned up a cheerfully trusting face: _you're going to throw this for me, aren't you? Of course you are!_

Reese chuckled and picked it up and hurled it across the beach to drop into the waves. Sam departed in a shower of sand particles and water droplets.

Abby and her companion arrived. "Hi Joss, hi John," she greeted them. "This is my husband Jason."

They shook hands with him. Jason was tall, like Abby, but his hair was reddish – or so Reese thought; the moonlight made it difficult to tell.

"Hey, we're having a barbecue tomorrow night. If you're not doing anything, would you like to come?" Jason said.

Joss smiled. "Yes, we'd love that," she said immediately.

Reese nodded agreement. "What time?" he asked.

"Oh, we'll fire up the barbie at about six, so come any time after that," Jason replied.

Reese experienced a slight jolt at the mental image of a melting doll before he realised what Jason meant. "Great, we'll see you then," he said easily. They continued their walk, listening to the waves and the hiss of the wind through the grass growing on the dunes.

"Not sure what I'd do if the Machine ever turned off the Numbers," he said to Joss. "Have to find another purpose, I guess."

Joss grabbed his hand as they turned for home. "I think you'd do okay."

"Long as I'm with you, Joss," he sighed.

They walked on in silence.

To be continued….


	5. Chapter 5

It was a little after two in the morning when Reese snapped awake. He lay listening hard. There was the ever-present sound of the waves on the shore – fairly loud, so the tide must be mostly in. An owl hooted in the forest up on the hillside somewhere. And then there was another stealthy thump from downstairs. Gently he disengaged himself from Carter. She had turned into a fairly heavy sleeper over the last year or so, well used to his nocturnal comings and goings, so she simply rolled over, groggily pushed a strand of hair off her face, and went back to sleep. He got out of bed, clad only in his boxers in the warm might. He felt oddly naked without a weapon in his hand in this situation. He walked silently across the floor, then made his way down the stairs, carefully treading right next to the wall to avoid any creaks. The moon outside, coming through the enormous window, lit the living room quite well, but there was no need. From the kitchen came the glow of the refrigerator light.

He crept over to the door and peered around the frame. A skinny brown-skinned youth of about sixteen,dressed in beach shorts and a scruffy basketball singlet was standing with his back to Reese, digging in the fridge. As Reese watched, he got out the half bottle of wine left over from dinner and took a swig. "Yuck," he muttered to himself, and put the bottle back.

"Yeah, it really needs to be at room temperature," said Reese conversationally.

The boy nearly jumped out of his skin. He took a wild look over his shoulder at Reese and then darted for the back door. Two long strides and a lunge from Reese defeated his escape attempt and then Reese's thumb and forefinger closed over the lad's ear. The kid went still.

Reese exerted a gentle pull on the ear; the youth, perforce, walked with him back to the living room.

"'Twas the night before Christmas," murmured Reese as they went, "and all through the house… someone was breaking and entering. What's your name, kid?"

"Ow! Piri," the boy blurted.

"Piri, what?"

"Ah! Um, Piri Weepu. Yeah. Can you let me go?" Reese was fairly certain the the kid was telling the truth about his first name. He was also pretty sure that the surname was fake.

"I'll let you go when you tell me your real surname," he said evenly. They had reached the living room now.

"Okay, okay! Jones. Piri Jones. Honest."

"Huh. You from the place up the road back there?"

"Yeah." The lad was breathing hard. "Please, will you let go. It bloody _hurts_."

"Okay. But you're not going to bolt, you're going to sit down so we can have a little chat, Piri."

The kid nodded carefully, trying not to jog his ear.

Reese let go.

The kid made a dash for the door, but Reese's foot shot out and the boy went crashing to the floor.

"Now look what you've done," said Reese. "That'll have woken my fiancée up, and she needs her sleep." He stepped over to the boy, picked him up and dumped him in one of the leather armchairs.

There was a sound from upstairs, and the light in the bedroom went on. In a moment Joss emerged, wrapping a light robe around herself, and paused at the top of the stairs. Her puzzled look hardened as she took in the scene: Reese in his boxers standing with his arms folded as he stared down at the boy in the chair. She sighed and came down the stairs.

"Joss, this is Piri Jones. Piri, this is Joss Carter. She's a cop back home in New York. A homicide detective."

Piri seemed to shrink into his chair a little as he heard this.

"Now, what I would like to know," continued Reese in the same conversational tone, "is why you were breaking into our home in the middle of the night, on Christmas Eve."

"I think that's kind of obvious, John," murmured Carter.

He acknowledged this with a slight lift of one eyebrow. "I'd still like to hear it from him."

The boy was huddled in his chair, sullenly staring at the expensive rug on the polished wooden floorboards. "Because this place rents for, like, six hundred bucks a night. And you guys have it booked for three whole weeks. Right through the peak season. Mrs Grant was over the moon. A couple of rich Yanks, she said. Anyone who can afford that must have more money than God. So I reckoned there must be something worth nicking." He took a big breath. "Wrong there, eh. Not even booze or smokes. I was just leaving anyway." He raised his eyes in a defiant smirk which made Reese itch to wipe it off his face.

"Okay, Piri. Thank you for your, um, truthfulness." He turned his eyes to Carter. "I guess that raises the question of what you want to do with him, Joss."

She sighed again. "I'd rather not involve the police, John. Christmas, and all. Besides, we're on vacation."

"Okay. What say I kill him for you and get rid of the body?" He allowed his eyes to go flat and hard.

Piri gave an uneasy laugh from his chair. "No way, man..." his voice trailed off as he saw the flash of real concern in Joss' face.

Reese turned again to the skinny kid. "You see, Piri, I used to kill people for a living. Now, Joss here has been a great influence on me, but sometimes I just can't help myself-"

"John," said Joss sharply.

"Honest, Joss, there's a whole kitchen there with some good, high quality knives. I could get him cut up small and dumped in the ocean by sunup. Let the sharks clean up the mess."

The boy in the armchair was starting to shake.

"John! That's enough!" She was starting to frown for real now. With a reluctant sigh he gave it up.

"Okay, since it's Christmas. Piri, listen up." The kid in the chair was staring at him with wide brown eyes. "You can leave now. And you can put the word out to anyone you know who might be thinking of repeating what you've done tonight. It would be a very, very bad idea." He gave the boy his hardest stare. "Got it?"

"Got it!" squeaked Piri. He seemed frozen in place.

"Go on," said Reese softly. "Scat." He made a shooing gesture with his hands, and after a second Piri crept from the chair, gave one frightened glance over his shoulder, and was gone. The back door banged shut behind him. After a second Joss stirred and padded through to the kitchen to lock it. She re-emerged and walked over to Reese and put her arms around him. "You have a really horrible sense of humour sometimes," she mumbled into his chest.

His lips twitched. "How do you know I was joking?"

She snorted at that.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

It seemed that Piri had simply climbed in an open window, Reese was relieved to find. He hadn't been looking forward to telling Mrs Grant that they had broken her house on their second night there. But once they'd identified and remedied the breach in their perimeter, it took a while for them to get back to sleep. Still, the sun came up just the same, and suddenly it was Christmas morning. They raided the fridge and Reese made pancakes which they ate with fresh bananas and maple syrup and bacon fried crispy. The sun blazed through the picture window, and the light off the sand was almost blinding. They decided to go for a walk on the beach before it got too hot, and then as the temperature started to rise they retreated indoors again. They sat on the leather sofa and held hands and talked of this and that, of what Taylor might be up to at that moment (Joss shuddered) and what Finch might have told Fusco about their sudden absence. Then Reese dug in his pocket and brought out the wrapped box with the purchase he had made in Thames, way back… the day before yesterday, he realised.

"Merry Christmas, Joss," he said softly.

She smiled at him and snuggled into his side as she picked the little package open. She popped open the box. "Ah," she breathed.

"It's supposed to symbolise love and loyalty between two people," he told her, squeezing her hand. "It seemed… appropriate."

She leaned up and kissed him, then jumped up and ran up the stairs. In a moment she was back. "It's a funny thing," she said. "Merry Christmas to you, too." She held out her own gift – another small box.

He picked the tape off and tore off the paper. When he opened the box, there was another greenstone pendant. The toki he had admired in Thames.

His jaw dropped. "How did you…?"

"Tailed you," she said simply. "When you left the store I went straight in. That shop assistant was real helpful." She paused, and added, "She told me the toki was all about strength and courage, honour and determination – like a medal you give to a brave soldier. So yeah. It seemed appropriate."

They sat for a long time after that. Just enjoying the view.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

Lunch was a light affair – the leftover bread rolls with sandwich fillings. John dumped the pinot noir down the sink before she had a chance to pour it.

The afternoon of Christmas without friends or family, and without even cell phone coverage to contact them, was … a little flat, Joss thought. Eventually they were driven in desperation to the TV, which had been sitting unregarded in the corner of the room. There followed a period of trying to figure out how to get the cable channels to work. When they finally got the thing functioning, they were bemused to find _It's a Wonderful Lif_ e on one channel, and _The Sound of Music_ on another. Apart from that it was some seriously ancient reruns and a package of sporting highlights from the year, prominently featuring the exploits of the national rugby team. In all justice, Joss was forced to concede that they looked like they were pretty good, but she got bored with them a while before John did. As the sun began its slide towards the hills Joss checked the onscreen schedule.

"Hey, John. There's a Christmas message from the Queen of England on at six. Shall we watch?"

John looked a bit mystified. "Why?"

"Why not? When in Rome, and all that."

He shrugged, looking unconvinced. "We're supposed to be down the beach to the Lees about then."

"Oh, they won't care if we're a few minutes late. C'mon, it's not like we ever see it at home."

"Okay." He still looked unconvinced, but they tuned in to watch anyway. It was only ten minutes long. Joss had to admit, she didn't really get the appeal of watching the white-haired old lady standing stiffly next to an ornate desk talking about service, and faith, and doing good to others. There was a certain dignity about her, though. And she gave off the air of someone doing her very best to fulfil an unpleasant duty, which gave her words an unconscious emphasis.

When the message ended they bestirred themselves. It seemed polite to take a bottle of wine to the party, and they had a gentle debate about which one to take. Then they took another stroll along the familiar beach as the shadows lengthened. The Lees' house was pretty obvious by the drift of other people towards it, and soon they were picking their way through the long grass of the dunes towards a swathe of lawn surrounded by trees on two sides. It suddenly hit Joss that this was _ordinary_ – yet completely unfamiliar to them both. Just going to a neighbourhood barbecue together. She allowed herself a moment of optimism. Maybe a normal life wasn't completely out of their reach, at least in little slices like this. Just maybe.

To be continued...


	6. Chapter 6

The barbecue at the Lees' house had nearly the whole local population there. Someone had strung coloured lights around the trees, and as John and Joss arrived there was a smell of charcoal and searing meat in the air. Abby accepted their bottle of wine with mild protests, easily over ridden. Sam was nowhere around. "He's in the house," Abby told them when they asked. "We can't have him out here, he'd be bouncing around knocking everything over." Mrs Grant gave them a friendly nod from her seat under a tree, and seemed about to say something when there was the sound of a throat being cleared behind them. Reese turned to see a short, stocky man with brown skin and grizzled hair in a vaguely military cut. Next to him, Piri stood with his eyes fixed on the ground. The grizzled man gave the boy a nudge. "My boy has something to say to you," he said firmly.

"Um, g'd evening Ms Carter. Mr, um, John." Piri's eyes were still fixed firmly on his toes.

There was a long pause. The man nudged Piri again.

"I've come to, um, to apologise for last night," said Piri reluctantly.

Reese raised his brows slightly.

"What I did was wrong, and I'm sorry, and, um, I'll try to make it up to you," the boy finished in a rush.

Reese found himself intrigued. "Just how do you expect to do that?" he asked softly.

Piri looked up at his father, who remained impassive. "Um, I dunno. If you have any chores that need doing while you're here I could do them."

It was Carter's turn to lift her brows.

"Or, or – I can drive now. I could drive you, um, places," the boy said, rather more eagerly.

Reese suppressed a shudder.

"Thank you, Piri, but that won't be necessary-" Carter began, but the stocky man interrupted her.

"Pardon me, Ms Carter, but Piri needs to make things right. He's never done anything like that before, and I never want him to do it again. He's brought shame on our whole family, and he needs to make amends."

Reese had a sudden flash of inspiration. "I tell you what, Piri. As of this moment you are our guide. You will report to us each morning at ten, and you will be a fount of local information and general helpfulness. If we need help, you will help us. If we tell you you can go, you will go, but you will still report to us the next morning at exactly ten. Understood?"

"Okay," said Piri, after a slight hesitation.

The grizzled man gave Reese a nod of thanks. "Okay, Piri. Haere atu. Off you go." The boy shot Reese one last wary look and melted away in the direction of a group of other teens. His father held out his hand. "My name's Jones. Manawanui Jones, but most people just call me Nui."

Reese shook his hand. "Nice to meet you, Nui. I'm John Reese."

Nui smiled a little tensely. "Thanks for helping me with my boy, Mr Reese. If there's anything else me or my family can do for you, just let me know."

"It's all fine, Mr Jones," said Joss soothingly. "No harm done. I've seen plenty of kids act out a bit, but they grow out of it and settle down. I'm sure it'll be just the same for Piri."

The man's smile became a bit less tense. "Thanks again, Ms Carter." He gave them another polite nod and moved off.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

The party started to warm up after that. Reese found himself juggling a plate loaded with steak, garlic bread, coleslaw and a salad featuring lettuce, grated carrot, boiled eggs and beetroot, along with cutlery for consuming same and a bottle of beer. The kids, of whom there were many, seemed to have been placated with sausages well daubed with tomato ketchup and wrapped in bread. Dessert was generous helpings of a local concoction called a pavlova – a meringue cake topped with whipped cream, kiwifriut and strawberries. Once the eating was over and the barbecues extinguished, Sam was let out of the house to lope around, trailing a comet tail of the smaller children, who all seemed to be competing to grab his tail.

The stars were well out now, the luminous path of the Milky Way spread across the sky. Reese became aware of a gradual drift of people away from the house and down towards the beach. Curious, he followed them. Joss noticed as he turned to leave and left her conversation with Mrs Grant to join him. A glow ahead on the sand proved to be the early stages of a bonfire.

More beer appeared from somewhere, and as the flames grew Reese saw Nui Jones beg a guitar from someone else to a mix of cheers and groans.

Abby had reappeared. She chuckled as she stood next to them. "Here we go. Every Christmas it's the same – Nui gets hold of a guitar and plays the one song he knows."

Sure enough, Nui strummed a few chords by way of preparation, and then launched into the song. Reese and Joss listened, smiling at the differing reactions of those around them. Reese was fairly sure he saw Piri over with his friends, hunching his shoulders defensively but smiling nonetheless as voices joined in. The song was in Maori, but even the Europeans around the fire seemed to know it and join in with the chorus:

"E hine e,

Hoki mai ra,

Ka mate ahau, i

Te aroha e..."

"What does it mean?" Joss asked.

"Actually I'm not sure," replied Abby. "It's called 'Pokarekareana', and it's _the_ New Zealand song. It's like rugby, you can't escape it. It's a love song, I think. Personally I don't like it much, but singing it around a bonfire on a beach is a cliché Nui can't resist."

Once the song was over Nui returned the guitar, and the new player started into "Snoopy's Christmas". The bonfire got hotter, and Reese and Joss found a spot on the sand just beyond its glare and sat down. The waves broke on the beach, branches in the fire snapped and popped, sending sparks up into the night. Reese lay back, studying the stars. As ways of spending Christmas night went, he had to admit this was a good one.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

At ten o'clock the next morning there was a hesitant knock on the kitchen door. Reese was glad he'd specified a relatively late hour of the morning for Piri to present himself – an hour previously he and Joss had been very much otherwise occupied. As it was, he was showered and dressed and standing sipping coffee in front of the window. The weather seemed to be about to change – the sky was such a pale blue it was almost white, and the horizon was lost in haze.

He made his way through to the kitchen to let the boy in.

"Morning, Mr um Reese," said Piri, ducking his head.

"Morning," said Reese. He drained the last of his coffee and pointed to a pile of potatoes he'd had the forethought to set out on the counter. "Get peeling."

Piri didn't reply, just picked up the peeler and got to work. Reese put his cup in the dishwasher, saw it was almost full, and set it going.

It was very quiet. Reese had to hand it to the lad – he was making fast progress with the potatoes. "You're good at that," he said, gesturing towards the growing pile of peeled tubers.

Piri shrugged. "I peel spuds a lot at home. What're they for?"

Reese glanced at Piri. "Potato salad, for later." He fetched a knife and a chopping board and began cutting the potatoes into even-sized pieces, plunking them into a saucepan of water as he went.

"You do the cooking?" Piri seemed surprised.

Reese shrugged. "I enjoy cooking. Joss doesn't especially. Back home we both work long hours, so cooking a meal and eating it together is a real treat."

Piri paused in his peeling. "She's a cop. What do you do?"

"Private detective. Before that, I was a cop too."

"Oh." Piri resumed peeling. "You said you used to kill people for a living."

Reese hesitated a long moment. "Before I was a cop I was in the army."

"Oh." A long pause. "I think my Dad killed someone once."

Reese's brows rose. "He was in the army too, wasn't he."

"Yeah. He went all over the place. Solomon Islands, East Timor. He was in Yugoslavia a long time ago, before I was born. I think that's where it happened, but he doesn't talk about it. It was just something Uncle Jerry said once."

Reese smiled a little. "I had no idea the New Zealand army got around so much," he murmured.

Piri was nearly finished. "Yeah, well, we're not big and rich like you guys, but we do our bit. There's a saying – 'he iti, he pounamu' – it's little, but it's greenstone. That's us." Two more tubers left.

"So how did your Dad find out what you were up to, night before last?" asked Reese curiously.

The potato peeling slowed. "Um. He, um… he caught me when I was coming back in."

"Through your window, huh?" Reese murmured.

Piri didn't reply, just hunched his shoulders, but Reese could imagine the scene. Dad roused by the sounds of the teenager hauling himself in, the bedroom door opening, angry demands for an explanation – _Where the hell have you been? -Nowhere. -Nowhere? It's two in the bloody morning!_ The kid, shaken perhaps by his brush with the New York detective and her scary man, blurting out what he'd been up to. The parental storm breaking. He'd had a few scenes a little like that in his own past. One thing, though – it suggested that Nui Jones' assertion that his son had never done anything like this before was probably correct. The boy had displayed a heartening incompetence in getting caught twice in one night.

Piri finished the last potato. "Anything else you want done?"

"Why are you so eager?" asked Reese, smiling.

Piri shrugged. "It's either that or I have to help Dad and Uncle Jerry paint the house. That's what they're doing today. And I hate painting."

Reese could understand the kid's motivation – though in his case the chore had been baling hay – but he couldn't honestly think of anything else for Piri to do. He shook his head regretfully. "No, nothing right now. Just one thing – since you're our local knowledge. What's the weather going to do?"

"When it goes hazy like this, it usually clouds over. Might be rain by tonight."

Reese nodded understanding. "Okay, Piri. See you tomorrow."

To be continued...


	7. Chapter 7

As Piri disappeared up the driveway, Joss arrived at the kitchen door. "Did I hear someone mention rain?" she asked.

"Piri thought maybe by tonight," John told her.

"Looks okay right now," she commented.

"Sure does. And I think the beach patrol will have arrived by now. How about a swim?"

Changing into their new swimwear took a lot longer than anticipated.

"Okay, I admit it," murmured Joss, an hour later. "I'm impressed. I would have thought a man of your age would be at least a day recovering after this morning."

"You're not going to get a rise out of me like that, Carter," he murmured back. "….On the other hand, that seems to work just fine..." he added in a slightly strangled voice.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

It was past mid-day when they got out onto the beach. The early haze had burned off, though wispy cloud formations high in the sky hinted at the change in the weather to come. Otama beach was more crowded than Joss had ever seen it – forty or fifty people dotted up and down it, but mostly swimming between the red and yellow flags planted in the sand. The surf lifesaving club had put up an awning just in front of the dunes and two guys were sitting under it looking alert, which was a good quality in a lifeguard, Joss had to admit.

They spread out their towels in the dappled shade of a pohutukawa tree, and then picked their way across the sand to the water's edge. The water was not particularly warm, they found – it might look like a tropical paradise, but it was only early summer, and the water was pretty cool. On the other hand, the sun was beating down and that made the sensation of the little waves breaking over their feet and around their ankles little short of heavenly.

They splashed around in the water for half an hour or so, and then beat a retreat to the shade of the tree.

Joss lay back and watched the leaves moving against the blue sky. John sat next to her, studying the beach – kids and dogs, a windsurfer, a game of beach cricket going on off in the distance. But it was a rare pleasure to see him without that edge of hyper-vigilance. No threats here, no-one to protect. She began to doze.

Voices approached, and she was vaguely aware of cheerful greetings being exchanged. She recognised Nui and Piri's voices, and someone else who might be the Uncle Jerry Piri had mentioned. In the cause of politeness she prised her eyes open and sat up, just in time to see the moment Uncle Jerry saw the scars on John's torso. His eyes widened. "Jesus. What happened to you?" Joss caught the sudden stiffening of John's posture. She was suddenly grateful Finch had been thoughtful enough to give her a one-piece. The top of the scar between her breasts from Simmons' attempt on her life and the subsequent surgery was just visible, but only if you knew to look. And of course that awful mess left by the land mine was well covered. But between Kara, Snow and Simmons, John was a jumble of old bullet wounds, and that was just the life-threatening ones. There were the scars of a few simple through-and-throughs up on his shoulders and arms, plus various knife wounds.

"I've been unlucky," John said after a second.

"John worked narcotics and homicide in New York for a few years," said Joss. There, let them assume New York was one big shooting alley.

"Yeah, uh… to be honest, I don't like to talk about it much," John added.

"Fair enough," said Nui respectfully. He gestured to the patch of sand next to them. "Mind if we share your shade?"

"No, help yourself," said Joss automatically.

"This is my brother Jerry," said Nui once they had settled themselves. "He's come over from Hamilton with his family to stay for a few days."

"I heard you were painting the house," said John, cocking an eye in Piri's direction.

"Yeah, but there's no point working after lunchtime if it's going to start raining," said Nui. "I had my paint washed off my house once because I kept going too long. The clouds came over, the rain came down and the next morning there was about eighty bucks worth of paint which wasn't on the walls any more, it was kind of running into the lawn and all through the garden. Never again."

"Yeah, Mum was really pissed off with you," said Piri.

"That was 'cause she'd been the one helping me. You were too little. Anyway, might as well come down the beach. Gets us out of the way of the women folk."

And of any further chores they might think up too, Joss thought. "You really think it'll rain?" she said to them.

"Yep," said Nui confidently. "It's coming down from the north. Enjoy the sun while you can, tomorrow's going to be wet as a very wet thing."

Piri, getting bored with the conversation, got up and announced he was going in for a swim. The rest of them watched as he trotted across to the waves, waded for a moment, and then dived in.

"He's a good kid, really," said Nui.

John nodded. "He's great at peeling potatoes, that's for sure."

"I still wish I knew what was going through his head – I mean, why did he… do what he did? Never had a hint of trouble from that boy, and he suddenly does this? Not like him."

"What are his friends like?" asked Joss. "As far as I can tell, it's when they get into a bad group that you get trouble."

"Mm," said Nui.

Joss lay back again. The high cloud was just starting to thicken as promised, but the breeze was warm and heavy. It wasn't long before she dozed off again.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

The rain came on overnight, and when Reese woke up the next morning all he could see out the window was shifting curtains of rain across the bay. At ten o'clock there was a knock on the kitchen door, and when he opened it, there was Piri, draped in a raincoat. On his hip he was carrying a small girl, also draped in a raincoat, with a pink plastic boot hanging from one foot.

"Hi Mr Reese," said Piri.

Reese gestured for them to come in. "I think your friend has lost one of her boots," he said.

Piri twisted to look down as he let the child slide to the ground.

"She's not my friend, she's my cousin. Jeez, Mani, why didn't you tell me when it fell off?"

"I didn't _know_ it fell off," said the little girl. She pushed the hood of her raincoat back. "I can sing a song," she told Reese.

"No-one cares about your stupid song," said Piri impatiently. "Here, leave your gumboot outside, we'll look for the other one on the way back." Hewas taking his coat off as he spoke. "Gimme your coat, we'll leave it outside too."

Once they were inside the girl skipped through to the living room, where Joss was sitting flicking through her guidebook. Piri followed her, grabbing her hand.

"Um, Ms Carter, this is my cousin Taimania, but we call her Mani. Sorry, Mum and Aunty told me to bring her this morning. Do you mind? Don't touch anything, Mani."

Joss was eyeing the two with amusement. "How old are you, Mani?" she asked.

"I'm three. I can sing a song," Mani told her. Piri rolled his eyes.

Joss was opening her mouth to respond to this when Mani launched into her performance. "I am a pohutukawa see-eed, plant me in the ground and water mee-ee, plenty of sunshine is what I nee-eed, and guess what you will see..."

Piri was red-faced with embarrassment. "Mani! Shut up!" he hissed.

Joss caught Reese's eye and it was all he could do to stifle a laugh. She was even less successful. "She's just fine, Piri," she managed to choke out.

Mani was completely unfazed by the byplay, if she even noticed it. When she had reached the end of her song she said, "We sung that at daycare at our Christmas party. We learned 'Jingle Bells', too. You wanna hear that one?"

"Well, thank you, Mani, but I think one song is just fine for now. Maybe later," said Joss diplomatically.

Piri turned to Reese. "What do you want me to do today, Mr Reese?"

Reese suppressed a shrug. There wasn't much _to_ do right now. "We just want some advice, I guess. What do you do at Otama Beach when it's raining?"

Piri looked a little blank. "Dunno. Play Scrabble? That's what the olds are doing back there." He indicated the direction of his house with a lift of one shoulder.

"Did you get any good presents from Santa?" asked Mani loudly. "I got my gumboots and a trike. And Piri got a Playstation, but he's not allowed to use it yet 'cause he was naughty."

Piri glared at his cousin, but he had obviously given up trying to repress her.

"Yes, well, sadly we don't have a Scrabble set, Piri," said Reese, coming to the boy's rescue. "Anything else people do here when it's raining?"

Piri shrugged his shoulders. "Otama's the most boring place in the world even when it isn't raining. If it was me, I'd just get in a car and go somewhere else."

"Actually Piri has a point," said Joss. She held up her guidebook. "We could take a trip to Rotorua, maybe. According to this it's only a couple of hours' drive. We could stay overnight and take a look around and then come back here."

"Okay," said Reese. "I guess we could do that. If we left now we could be in Rotorua for a late lunch."

"But at this time of the year it'll be pretty much booked up. Only the really expensive places'll have room." Piri looked anxious.

Reese thought of the platinum credit card, hardly used so far. "Oh, I doubt that'll be a problem, Piri," he said with a small smile.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

Once the decision was made they packed fast. Piri waved goodbye as they drove past him, slogging along the driveway in the rain with Mani clinging on and holding her one boot tucked under her arm. Then it was up the hill, past the Jones place and along the gravel road, now slippery and muddy in the wet. As they drove through Whitianga and then south, the weather seemed to be clearing, or at least the rain got lighter.

"So what's in Rotorua?" asked Reese as he drove. He hadn't paid much attention to the guide book, especially since Carter had swiped it and seemed to consider it her territory.

She grinned at him. "Let's just say it's the kind of place where you could find yourself in hot water," she said.

To be continued….


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Sorry about the long wait for this chapter. I have to confess, I got into holiday mode myself for a few days there. But the story, such as it is, continues….**

At first the road wound through more of the hilly country they had experienced on their way from Thames, although this time they were taking the route across the base of the peninsula instead of up one side and down the other. But after a while they emerged from the hills and turned south. This was a land of flat fields, black and white cows and milk tankers, but to their left a range of steep, high hills,dark green with native forest, frowned down on them. The low clouds clung to the tops, and Joss was again put in mind of ancient forests where pterodactyls might roost. Driving along the foot of the hills, they passed through a series of small towns: wide main streets, shopping precincts with awnings stretching out over the sidewalk to provide shade, some with hanging baskets of flowering plants all along the street.

Joss was busy on her phone as they drove. John was content to let her get on with her arrangements, and finally she put the phone aside. "We're booked in at the Hyatt for two nights. Penthouse suite, which was the only thing left. I'm not sure what the credit limit on that card is, but I bet it's put a dent in it."

"I wouldn't be so sure," replied John. "Knowing Harold, there may not even _be_ a credit limit on it."

They were gradually outrunning the bad weather. The clouds were thinning out and the sun breaking through as they passed through another small town. The countryside began to change, flat dairying country giving way to rolling pasture land dotted with outcrops of volcanic rock. There were sheep grazing in the pastures now, and the occasional field with double height fences and herds of deer grazing. A few miles further on was a farm with animals Joss identified uncertainly as llamas or alpacas. And even John's head cranked around in surprise as they passed a field with... _ostriches?_

Her estimate of a couple of hours' drive turned out to be badly awry – three hours was more like it, and so they stopped at a roadside café in Matamata and sampled salmon eggs Benedict. They argued gently over whether to break the journey to take a look at the preserved sets of Hobbiton from the _Lord of the Rings_ movies. John won that one, arguing for a push through to their destination. He seemed to be enjoying the drive, and the sense of exploration. Joss hugged to herself a secret satisfaction at his animation, the way his eyes had lost that guarded look and taken on instead an eager anticipation of good things to come. _Bless you, Finch,_ she thought to herself.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

It was midafternoon when they reached the crest of a range of hills and saw Rotorua spread out before them – a small, low-rise town hugging the shore of a lake. As they began their descent it became rapidly clear that they were in heavy-grade tourist country. Almost every bend in the road revealed a sign or billboard urging them to partake of soma attraction or other: whitewater rafting, bungee jumping, scenic this and geothermal that. And not long afterwards, as they reached the outskirts of the town, the smell hit them. Reese wrinkled his nose. "Hydrogen sulphide, Joss? This place has hot springs, huh?"

"Yeah, they say you get used to the rotten eggs smell pretty fast. The book says this is one of the world's most active geothermal areas. Oh, my. John, stop a second." He pulled over and followed her gaze. Beside the road was what had been some perfectly ordinary tennis courts. Except they were now fenced off with warning signs. The rear half of one court had caved in, the surface thrown up in slabs with steam leaking from the ground underneath. A woman pushing a baby in a buggy and herding a couple of older children walked past without a glance - business as usual, apparently.

"Huh," said Reese respectfully. He pulled back out into the traffic.

When they reached the middle of town they found the Hyatt perched on the lake shore. Their penthouse suite turned out to be only nine floors up, but the Hyatt was the tallest building in town anyway, so their view of the lake was unimpeded. Joss wandered over to the window and gazed out pensively. "We have a couple of hours before we need to eat. Shall we go exploring?"

The concierge was happy to provide them with a map of the city centre and some suggestions, and so they made their way to the lake front and began to make their way along it. There were plenty of people out on a calm afternoon – cyclists, families and a few boats out on the lake. They turned inland a little, and following the map, it was only a few minutes before they reached their goal. Down one last alley and they emerged into a large, quiet courtyard surrounded by buildings. Reese hesitated as he stepped out into the middle of the plaza. There was no-one else around, and for a moment he wondered whether there had been some sort of mistake – were people really allowed here? The largest building was evidently closed up. It had one door set off centre in the front wall, and a single window facing out into the court. These were sheltered from the elements by an overhanging roof, steeply sloping down on each side with a single pole or pillar in the middle supporting it at its peak. The barge boards, the middle support and the surrounds of the door and window were painted red, and adorned with the most elaborate carvings he had ever seen. Entwined stylised figures which might or might not have been human gestured or brandished weapons. Their eyes were picked out with some kind of iridescent shell, and their bodies adorned with sinuous spirals. At the peak of the roof was a slightly more realistic figure of a warrior, brandishing his spear over the courtyard in front of him. A much smaller version of the same structure sat next to it, elevated off the ground on thick posts, and also heavily carved.

On the other side of the courtyard was a building readily identifiable as a church. They strolled over, hand in hand. Joss glanced down at the paving stones and pointed in surprise – a small crack was emitting a steady plume of steam, and the edges of the crack were rimmed with sulphur deposits. Active geothermal area, yeah.

The church was open, entry by donation, so Joss dug out a couple of notes and pushed them into the box. The inside was unlike anything Reese had ever seen. It was a small place, cosy and warm-feeling, partly because inside it was all reds and browns. There was more of the exuberant carving over almost every surface, except that between the panels of carving were areas of woven work, the patterns geometric to contrast with the curved patterns of the carving. Over to one side was a small chapel with a window looking out onto the lake. Joss seated herself in the pew in front of it. The window was etched with a picture of Jesus, clad in the feathered cloak of a Maori chief, apparently walking across the surface of the lake. Reese seated himself next to Joss and tried to feel spiritual. But it didn't really work. _Some things can't be forced, I guess_. What was it about churches? He thought back to that little golden church in Athens. _Have to go back there_ , he thought vaguely. Then there was that disused church in Poland where he and Kara had holed up, waiting for a target….

"Why are we even bothering with some mid-level Polish crime boss?"

Kara rolled her eyes at him. "Questions, questions. Though actually for once I have an answer for you. He's here to meet another mid-level crime boss, after which he will be a high-level crime boss. There will be a very large, very active network of gangsters operating all through southern Poland and into the Czech Republic and Slovakia. Once you shoot him, there will be recriminations and the whole thing falls apart. We do this favour for the Polish Government, they do some favours for ours. Congratulations, John. You're about to achieve a diplomatic breakthrough."

"Never saw myself as a diplomat," he grunted.

The church was brick and mortar, a stone floor and a tiled roof. There was a decaying mezzanine floor at the west end, with a large round window which had once been stained glass but was now open to the elements. Their gangster's meet was supposed to happen not long after dawn, in a field across from the church, so they set themselves up once it got dark and settled to wait out the night. The chill seemed to reach out of the walls and floor to leach body heat from them, so they gradually huddled closer together.

Kara. Beautiful face, neat firm body. There was some perfume she used which seemed to bypass his frontal lobes altogether and go straight to his groin. A gorgeous, strong woman. Beautiful and badass. But toxic. In some ways her toxicity was exactly what attracted him. It called to some answering malaise deep within him. A strange combination of love and loathing which coiled around itself, each feeding the other. He shivered a little in the dank air, and tried to think of something else.

This church. All that devotion, all those people who had worshipped here. Married. Farewelled loved ones. Welcomed children. Gone now. There were leaves puddled in drifts in the entrance, the smell of rotting wood. It seemed a sad end for the structure. In another few years the gaps in the tiles would grow bigger, the decay would accelerate. How much longer could it last?

Kara's hand moved stealthily over his thigh. "I just thought of a great way to warm up," she murmured. "Ever do it in a church before?"

He wondered whether she had a little mental list somewhere of taboos she had broken. 'Sex in a church: check.'

"Are you kidding?" he whispered back. "There's rat shit all over the floor. You want rat shit in your hair?"

"Mm," she grunted after a pause. "Maybe you're right."

They waited out the long night side by side after that. The next morning in the grey predawn he set up his rifle on the mezzanine and fell into his sniper's trance, secure in the knowledge that Kara had his back. Breathing and heartbeat slowed, thoughts ran slow and sticky as molasses until the target walked into his sights. Then it was just a tiny movement of muscles in one finger to snuff out a life: an elegant way to kill, his favourite really. He grabbed the rifle, breaking it down as they ran from the church down the escape route Kara had scouted the previous day. Another mission accomplished… No doubt about it, Kara was a great partner, never let him down even once. Completely trustworthy. Just like Joss in a lot of ways… His thoughts came to an abrupt halt. Never, ever like Joss! Kara tried to kill me! ("She sold you out...They got to her." "-Yeah, they're clever like that…")

Beside him on the pew Joss stirred and glanced across at him. "Time to go?" she said, arching her eyebrows.

"Yup, any time," he replied, forcing a smile.

They got up and walked from the church.

To be continued...


	9. Chapter 9

They walked back down the alley they'd come in by, heading towards the next destination on their map. The late afternoon sun was casting long shadows now, and they strolled along unhurried. Joss darted a glance at John. He'd seemed so happy earlier, but now he looked abstracted and a little strained. What was he thinking? She sighed inwardly. He'd gone off down some mental byway while they were sitting in the church, that much was clear. And it obviously wasn't a happy one, either. How can you love someone when you hardly know them, she wondered. There were times when she felt she knew John better than she knew herself, when they seemed to wear the same skin. There were other times when he might as well have been on the far side of the moon. She'd had the same sensation with Paul, more and more frequently over the years until the day had come when she'd realised that he was someone completely different to the guy she'd fallen in love with and married. It had been – a guilty thought, this – a relief when his behaviour had become so erratic she could leave him without any further justification.

She shook herself. No good could come of thinking like this. John was _not_ Paul, not by any stretch of the imagination. And even if he did carry wounds and scars deeper even than Paul's, well, he didn't have Paul's capacity for self-deception. One thing you had to hand to John, he faced his problems squarely. He tended to despair over them, but that was a separate problem.

Kuirau Park was the place they were heading for – a taster, the concierge had said, for the major geothermal areas they would visit tomorrow. And a public park, so therefore free. The park was mainly areas of lawn, with little patches of trees and taller plantings. Most of these had sturdy railings around them, and steam rising. The rotten eggs smell was very strong. Eagerly Joss peered over the railings at the first such place they came to. The ground dropped away just inside the fence, and the steam was so thick she had to wait for a little breath of wind to blow it away. About six feet below ground level there was a pool of water bubbling furiously. Even from here she could feel the heat coming off it. Suddenly the signs warning people not to go past the railings seemed entirely superfluous. They stood side by side, contemplating the sight for a moment, and then by unspoken consent they continued their walk.

The next area had less steam, but a stronger smell. This one wasn't boiling water – it was mud. Thick and grey-brown, the mud bulged upwards, like someone blowing a bubble in some gum. Then the bubble burst with a _splat! a_ nd the process began again. They stared at it, mesmerised.

"That's actually pretty gross," Joss observed at last. Another outlet was forming beside the first, gas escaping through the mud with a continuous, slightly flatulent hiss. Robbed of its gas, the original bubble-vent was getting smaller.

"Yeah," said John – his first words for a while. "I could imagine Taylor loving this when he was younger, though."

"Oh, Lord. Yes, this would be one place to keep pre-teen boys away from." Joss's lips twitched as she imagined the stream of imitations and witticisms a visit here would have touched off at one time.

They continued their walk across the park. Some of the hot springs were pretty big, dozens of yards across. A few fenced off areas seemed to have nothing in them any more, but there were obviously new springs breaking out in other places. Joss couldn't envy the local city employees who were tasked with keeping track of the place and making sure the whole thing was safe.

They were getting a little footsore by the time they completed the circuit marked out on the map for them. The last stretch took them down the main street. There were a lot of restaurants and bars along here, everything from McDonald's to a selection of ethnic cuisines. Joss's stomach was starting to rumble, and so they found an Indian restaurant and treated themselves to onion bhaji, madras chicken and mango lassis to go with. Replete, and perspiring slightly, they made their way back to the hotel.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

The conversation that evening was light and friendly. John confessed to a previously unsuspected liking for Duran Duran: "C'mon Joss, admit it. _Hungry like the Wolf_ is a great song..." But when they got into bed he didn't fold himself around her like he usually did. In the dark she could see him lying on his back, his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling.

She sighed. "John, what's up? You've been… distracted ever since this afternoon."

There was a very long silence. At last he stirred and said quietly, "Just thinking about Kara."

Joss's breath trickled out in a long, quiet sigh. She moved over and cuddled into him, but he didn't put his arms around her.

"How could someone beautiful and strong and smart be so evil?"

She didn't answer, just gave him a squeeze.

"Is there Kara in me?" he asked after another pause.

She drew her breath to reply when he added in a rush, "Is there some of her in you? 'Cause I was attracted to her, Joss. I hate that, but I was. What scares me is this: is there something in you that, that _pulls_ me the same way she did? Am I like that? Are _you_ like that? 'Cause you're beautiful like her. You're strong like her. What if this, this thing – us – is just me caught, still _...tethered…_ to her?"

Joss hugged him again. She tried to choose her words carefully.

"There's good in all of us, I guess. Even in Kara. And there's evil too. So maybe you're right. Maybe you can see something in me you once saw in her too."

His breath caught in the dark beside her.

"Doesn't mean you have to be controlled by either of us. You're your own man, John. You've been choosing to be different to what Kara wanted you to be – for years now." She stopped. _Can't you ever forgive yourself?_ she cried silently.

He didn't reply, but he shifted onto his side, wrapping himself around her the way he usually did. They lay like that for a long time. John was softly running his hand up and down her side. Not a sexual touch, more like someone stroking a cat, simply deriving comfort from the contact. At last they fell asleep.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

The morning was cloudy, but the weather report claimed that the cloud would clear later in the day. The helpful concierge from the previous day was back on the desk, and she gave them the benefit of some local knowledge. As a result, armed with maps and brochures, they were on the road again headed for a local attraction with the alluring name of "Hell's Gate".

It was about a half hour drive. At first they travelled roughly north along the shore of the lake, but then turned inland and drove through pine forest up into the hills. The steam clouds ahead alerted them to the presence of the place even before they saw the entrance.

Hell's Gate, or Tikitere, as it was also known, stretched up a hillside. It seemed from the information sheet they were given on entry that George Bernard Shaw had visited in the 1920s and given the place its English name. But "Tikitere" derived from the cry of grief a mother had given centuries ago on finding her daughter's body floating in one of the hot pools – she'd thrown herself in to escape her abusive husband.

The lower parts were almost like desert – gravelled paths and wooden walkways led between boiling pools of water, some large enough to qualify as small lakes. There were no trees or vegetation here; Reese was glad of the overcast sky. On a hot day it really would feel like the gateway to a world of fire and brimstone. It was fascinating to see the difference in the pools: one roiling cauldron, a good twenty yards across, was a deep grey on account of the content of graphite in the water. But only a few minutes later they encountered another pool which was the most gorgeous aquamarine. The hell theme was continued in the names for the pools: "Devil's Bath", "Sodom and Gomorrah". They circled the site until they reached the scrubby native bush at the edge. By now the sun was breaking through, confirming Reese's expectations – it was going to get hot. Here the path followed a stream, also steaming gently, and they were able to walk in shade up the slope to the upper geothermal area. As they reached the top they passed a large waterfall – also steaming. Then the bush opened out again into a plateau covered with shallow pools, all shades of of a beautiful intense turquoise. It was just a shame that the colour was caused by the fact that the "water" was really boiling sulphuric acid. Further on were mud pools like the ones they had seen the previous day, and then a bit further still, a mud volcano towered higher than a tall man. Small spurts of mud splattered from its top and ran sluggishly down its sides to congeal and build it even higher. Drifting patches of cloud made sunlight and shadow alternate over the scene: patches of steam parted and regathered as they paced along the path. Even though there were plenty of other tourists it was possible to imagine themselves alone in a surreal world of fumes and mist and bubbling water.

Their walk around took an hour or so, and when they had made it back to the entrance it was getting on for lunchtime. Their appetites were undiminished by the sulphurous smell – it seemed you really _did_ get used to it – and so they ate in the on-site café before they headed back into town.

"What next?" asked Reese as he drove.

"Mm, I don't really feel like another geothermal area – though they say there's at least one other on the must-see list. But the museum sounded interesting. Got some nice gardens around it, too. How about that next?"

"Okay," said Reese. A museum sounded pretty harmless. _No more stories of tragic death today. I'm not in the mood._ He drove on, though the patches of sunlight and shadow.


	10. Chapter 10

The museum was housed in an astonishing enormous mock Tudor confection surrounded by lawns and gardens. They parked the car nearby and walked along gravelled pathways towards it. "The guidebook says it was built early last century when the government was trying to lure people from Europe to come here to take the waters. Seems people found the idea of a three-to-six-month ocean voyage to get here a big turn-off, so it never went very far. Nice building, though," commented Joss.

There was a big section on the major volcanic eruption in the 1880s, when much of the area had been destroyed by a huge eruption of a nearby volcano. And they sat in a little theaterette and watched a short film about the local history, with a goodly helping of geophysics for good measure. Joss emerged feeling she'd learned all she really needed to about subduction zones and plate tectonics. Of course, John acting like a teenager in the back row of the movies hadn't helped. He seemed to be making a sustained effort to put the bleakness of the previous day behind him.

They wandered through a large area dedicated to the local Maori tribe, Te Arawa – more of those amazing carvings, a small edition of the great meeting house they'd seen the previous day. A large collection of artefacts made of the luminous greenstone – Joss touched the pendant hanging at her own neck. John was looking pensively at a selection of woodworking adzes, bigger versions of his own pendant, also made of the green jade.

They passed by one display case which held nothing but a nondescript bone flute. "Tutanekai's Flute," read the notice on the display case. "Many years ago, before Europeans discovered New Zealand, a chief of Te Arawa had a beautiful daughter called Hinemoa. Hinemoa fell in love with a young man called Tutanekai, but her father would not consent to their marriage. Instead he sent Tutanekai to live on Mokoia Island, in the middle of Lake Rotorua. Each evening Tutanekai would sit on the shore opposite to Hinemoa's village and sadly play his flute. One night Hinemoa could stand it no more, and swam across to the island, guided by her lover's music. When he heard what had happened, Hinemoa's father realised that the two truly loved each other and could not be separated, and allowed their marriage."

It was a touching story, Joss thought as they moved away from the display case. But she had seen enough human remains to know that the flute was made out of an adult humerus. So did that make the story romantic, or merely creepy?

She was still pondering this problem as they emerged back out into the sunlight outside the museum. The clouds had cleared as promised, and it had turned into another baking hot day. They were turning away to head back towards the car park when there was an inarticulate yell from behind them. A young woman came sprinting towards them. Joss caught a glimpse of a pale face, long dark hair flying behind the runner, ripped jeans and tattoos on her arms as she came past them. The yell resolved into the age-old cry: "Stop thief!"

Joss tried to reach inside her non-existent jacket for her non-existent weapon. Out of the corner of her eye she saw John repeat the gesture; he was a fraction faster on the uptake than she was, though, and took off like a rabbit after the woman while Joss was still processing what had happened. It seemed a group of Japanese tourists entering the museum had been jostling their way through the entrance doors when the thief had struck, relieving a woman of her handbag. A cluster of concerned fellow travellers and an embarrassed tour guide were gathered around her. By now John was powering across the lawn in front of the main building, not much slowed by the flip-flops he was wearing. The girl he was chasing looked over her shoulder in evident surprise at finding a determined pursuit. She put on a burst of speed, but it was of no avail: John reached a long arm out to grab her shoulder, and the two went down in a flurry of limbs which resolved into the young woman face-down on the grass, screeching and cussing, with John crouched over her. A couple of security guards from the Museum were hurrying across the lawn towards the pair, and Joss made her way over to join them. She reached the group as one of the security guards arrived. He paused to pick up one of John's flip-flops, lost during that final sprint. "You lost your jandal, mate," he told John, handing it back. "Thanks for getting this girl. Cops are on their way right now."

Joss sighed a little as she heard this. She knew what the rest of the afternoon would hold for them now: having their statements taken by the local law enforcement. The other guard picked up the handbag as the tour guide and the robbed woman arrived to join the party. There were explanations and thank-yous exchanged in both English and Japanese, and then a police car arrived. Joss rolled her eyes at John, who gave a slightly apologetic shrug. A police woman got out of the car and was greeted with more bilingual explanations. She took it all in her stride, and Joss had a moment of professional appreciation of the ease with which the woman sorted out bystanders from witnesses. To her relief the officer was content with a verbal statement from John, which she recorded in her notebook along with some contact details. She assured them that security camera footage would probably be sufficient to prosecute the thief, but that she would call them the following morning if a written statement was deemed necessary. Having taken names and addresses all round, the cop departed with the by now silently weeping woman in the back of her car, and the little group broke up – though not before the smiling Japanese woman gave John a heartfelt hug.

They strolled back across the grass towards the parking lot where their car sat baking in the heat. "Still gotta be the hero, John, huh?" grumbled Joss as they walked.

He shrugged again in reply. "I'm on vacation, Joss. I'm not dead," he said with a smirk.

"I guess I'd just better be grateful you weren't armed. You might have kneecapped that poor girl right in front of everyone."

He didn't reply to this, though Joss could have sworn she saw his lips twitch. At least his mood had lightened. Maybe that was all he needed, some action to distract him from his thoughts.

Back at the car, they stood next to it with the doors open to allow some of the heat to dissipate.

"What next?" asked John.

"I was thinking, there's heated pools to swim in. But not right now."

"No," he agreed, watching the heat shimmer above the car.

"So…." she was leafing through the guidebook. "There's a redwood forest that has walking tracks..."

"We could do that in the States," he pointed out.

"True. So there's another geothermal area right here in town. Another of those long Maori names. Umm… Whakarewarewa. It also has a Maori arts and crafts institute attached. Might be interesting."

Actually it was. Entry to the thermal park was through the carving school, and visitors walked on a raised walkway which circled three sides of the main workshop. Down on the floor a series of workbenches contained carvings in various stages of completion. Some were very large – entire tree trunks being carved into ceremonial posts called 'pou', they were given to understand. Joss leaned on the rail, watching a young man, brow furrowed, carefully tap-tapping his way around a tight spiral with hammer and chisel. She saw John finger his toki meditatively.

The bright sun outside dazzled them momentarily as they emerged from the building. They sauntered across a courtyard, pausing to examine a magnificent carved war canoe housed under an awning. Then it was on to the geothermal area. This one was quite different to Hell's Gate. Much of the area was covered in scrubby native trees, not much like the thick forest they had seen on the hills of the Coromandel. They provided a little bit of shade, though, and helped lessen the sense of crowding as they moved along the tracks which criss-crossed Whakarewarewa. There were more mudpots with their strangely compelling bubbling mud, and as they passed one boiling pool they watched a tour group getting a demonstration of how the local people had lowered food into the hot water in woven bags to cook. But the main attraction of the place was the geysers. There was a wide, white flat area, all fenced off and devoid of vegetation, which steamed constantly. As they watched, boiling water and steam began to spurt from the rock. For a few moments it surged as high as a man. Then suddenly it gained strength, shooting a spray out at an oblique angle for a dozen yards. As they kept watching it hissed and seethed before dying away. Joss checked her watch: the best one, the Pohutu Geyser, apparently erupted pretty regularly once an hour. As the time drew near, she urged John along the path, joining a stream of other people all hurrying for a good view. Sure enough, just as they got there there was a loud hissing which rapidly turned to a roar. A white plume shot a hundred feet into the air, the slight breeze carrying spray right across the crowd. Awed murmurs came from the people around them; phones and cameras were held high to try to capture the sight. Joss didn't bother. No way could a photo on a phone recreate this wonder: the silver of the steam seeming to blend with the pure blue of the sky, the roar like a storm conveying the force of the earth which had produced it, the slight vibration under their feet. She stood next to John, and leaned into him. He leaned back, and they turned their faces skywards and opened their senses wide to the roaring, thundering marvel.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

Reese sat back in the hot pool, closed his eyes, and allowed all his muscles to uncoil. Once the heat of the day had passed, a soak in the hot pools at the Polynesian Spa had seemed like an excellent idea. This whole vacation thing was really working, he thought drowsily. Today had been a good day, a great day really. Getting away from it all had a lot going for it. Just like the clouds had cleared from the sky as the day progressed, Kara's shadow had gradually cleared from his thoughts. It seemed an insubstantial thing now. Joss was sitting opposite him in their private pool, looking quite delectable in her scarlet swimsuit; he gazed at her under his eyelashes. And gradually became aware that even though all his muscles were in a jelly-like state of total relaxation, there was one which was reporting for duty… Yep, it had been a great day. And it was just about to get better…..

To be continued….


	11. Chapter 11

The hotel did a late check-out, which was a mercy, Joss thought. They were both far too languid and sated to move until the sun was high in the sky. Finally they ventured forth for brunch in the hotel restaurant. Over their meal they discussed what they should do for their last day in Rotorua, and decided on one more tourist attraction: the Buried Village. So at the crack of noon they headed out of town, south this time.

The village got its name from the massive eruption of Mount Tarawera in 1886 which had left it buried under a layer of volcanic ash. The excavated houses were there to be seen, along with a collection of archaeological finds from the wreckage – a kind of time capsule of life in the days and hours prior to the village's sudden end. Before the eruption it had been called Te Wairoa, and it had been a boom town in almost every sense of the word. A natural wonder, the Pink and White Terraces, was nearby – terraces of gorgeous coloured geothermal deposits with warm pools for visitors to soak in. They had become world famous, and tourists were coming from all over. The local population benefited, of course. The meeting house in Te Wairoa no longer picked out the eyes of its carved ancestors in iridescent shell – they used gold sovereigns instead.

The story came out as they moved around the site. With the easy money had come corruption and vice. The old ways were being lost, replaced with drunkenness and violence. One elder had cried out against the rottenness of his people, warning of a terrible retribution to come. Then one evening people saw a canoe out on the lake – but it faded from sight before it reached land. A spirit canoe. And that night, the mountain awoke. Three tremendous columns of fire shooting into the sky, a roar which was heard hundreds of miles away, and the ash and cinders rained down. Six hours later, the Pink and White Terraces were gone forever, buried under volcanic debris and forty feet deep in a new lake created by the eruption. Over a hundred people were dead, some killed when the houses they were sheltering in collapsed under the weight of the ash. The village was abandoned, and the survivors built new lives for themselves in Rotorua township.

The Old Testament flavour of the morality tale gave Joss a shiver. She and John were quiet and thoughtful as they drove back out onto the road and headed north for their Coromandel Shangri-La.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

It was nearly evening as Reese was manoeuvring the car around the last curve and down the hill to Otama Beach, past the Joneses' metal gate. A gentle rain was making the going treacherous. In the passenger seat Joss stiffened. "John, something's wrong at the Joneses." They were past the gate now, and he couldn't spare any attention from the road.

"How do you know?"

"The two police cars parked on their lawn were a pretty big clue," Joss responded grimly.

Reese pulled the car to the side of the road. "Should we go down there?" he said uncertainly.

Joss was thinking. "No, let's drop the car off at the house first. Maybe Mrs Grant will know something."

When they got down to the beach house there was no sign of life at the Grant place. It was drawing towards night, the light rain making the twilight seem cold, even in the warmth of summer.

Reese stood outside the door, digging in his pocket for the key.

Joss was getting out of the car, gazing up at the hillside where the trees concealed the Jones house.

"Has Piri got himself into trouble again, do you think?" she asked.

Reese shrugged his shoulders as he unlocked the door. "Maybe. Though with two cars there it would have had to be something truly spectacular. If he has, we'd probably better just keep out of it. Can you imagine how the local cops will react if they realise he broke into the house?"

"Yeah," said Carter reluctantly – but she was interrupted in what she was about to say. Piri came out of the gloom, running and slipping down the driveway and sliding to a halt in front of them.

"Mizz Carter! Mr Riley!" The kid was panting and distraught.

"What's the trouble, Piri?" asked Joss in a soothing voice.

"Mani's missing! I think Jared's taken her! Please, you've gotta help me get her back!"

"Woah, woah," said Joss. "Who's Jared? And why would he have Mani?" She waved Piri into the kitchen out of the rain.

Piri pushed the hood of his raincoat back. He was panting and snivelling, and seemed about to burst into tears. Reese closed the door behind them. "Take a couple of deep breaths, Piri," he advised gently.

The boy complied, and when he had control of his breathing he said, "Jared. He's… this guy. He, he kind of dared me before Christmas to do a burg." His eyes flicked towards Joss. "A burglary, that is. He said he'd sell anything I nicked. I said no. Then he said if I didn't he'd take something of mine. Something important. And now Mani's gone."

"How long?" asked Reese.

"This morning. Her trike's still here, but she disappeared before lunchtime and now Mum's called the cops and it's all my fault." He was on the verge of tears again.

"John." Carter jerked her head towards the living room. He held up his hand towards Piri in a "stay put" gesture and followed her.

"We can't get involved, John," she said in a low voice. "This isn't our place, we don't know the people or how law enforcement works here. All we can do is tell Piri to let the local police know. It's their job to sort this out."

"There's a child involved," he shot back.

"I know, but having us blundering around won't help. Trust me."

He was drawing his breath to launch into a furious rebuttal when there was a faint knocking sound. From under the floor?

"What is that?" Carter tilted her head, listening.

"Help," came a muffled voice.

" _Mani?_ " Piri came through from the kitchen, heedless of the drips and mud he was spreading onto the floor.

"She's under the house," said Reese. They headed back out through the kitchen and into the rain, Piri jostling them in his eagerness to get past.

There was a kind of hatch in the side of the foundations allowing access to the crawlspace under the house. It was slightly ajar, and they crouched in the entrance, crowding each other.

"Mani? Are you under there?" Reese called.

"Yes," came the reply.

"Mani! What the hell are you _doing_ there?" Piri almost shrieked.

"I was looking for my gumboot," the child's voice piped up.

Reese shot a puzzled look at Piri. "We couldn't find her boot the other day," he explained. "She's been carrying on about it ever since."

"My princess boots. They were for Christmas," said Mani from the darkness.

"Will you come out of there?" said Piri. There were so many emotions mixed up in his voice – relief and anger and shame and happiness – it was hard to tell which might be uppermost.

"I can't. I'm _stuck_." She gave the word a proud emphasis.

"You what? Why are you under there anyway?" Anger was definitely gaining the upper hand.

"I came down here to look for my princess boot, and it started raining, so I went under the house. And then I got stuck, and then I had my afternoon sleep, and now I'm awake." There was a pause. "And I need to do a mimi."

Joss looked at Piri for a translation. "She needs to pee," he said between gritted teeth.

"Ah," said Joss.

Piri went up to his house to tell the good news. Joss went with him, while Reese crouched in the rain and kept Mani company.

"It's okay, Mani. Piri's gone to get your Mom and Dad," he said to the unseen child.

"Oh." There was silence. "I really need to pee."

"Yeah, well, see if you can hang on a bit longer."

"It hurts." Sniffles came from the darkness.

"You're doing great, Mani. Just hang on a little longer," he said.

"Ow! I can't, I can't!" The sniffles turned into a wail.

"Hey, it's okay, Mani. Umm..." he searched frantically in his mind for something which would calm her down. "I'll tell you a story, okay?"

The noises from Mani quietened a little. "Okay."

Crap. This wasn't something he had much experience in… "Once upon a time, there was a man."

A long pause.

"Is that the story?" Mani sounded scornful.

"No. Um, this man, he went on a long journey. And he met a beautiful woman, and he fell in love with her. But some bad stuff happened, and, and she died. And the man got very sad, because he was all alone."

There was more silence.

"So what happened next?" asked the little girl.

"Oh, um, someone found the man. So he wasn't alone any more. And then he made some friends and met another lady and fell in love with her. So he felt better."

"I know a story," said Mani. "There were three little pigs, and their Mum said they couldn't live with her any more, and they went and built some houses and the wolf came but he couldn't blow the last house down and he burned his bum in the hot water and went away."

"Oh." Reese couldn't think of a good response to this.

"That's a _much_ better story," said Mani. She sounded a lot calmer now, at least.

Over his shoulder he heard approaching footsteps. A quick glance revealed a small crowd approaching: Jerry, a woman he assumed was Mani's mother, Piri and Joss, and two police officers, one of whom was carrying a large flashlight.

There followed a protracted struggle to get Mani unstuck. Piri ended up underneath with the smaller of the two police constables and the flashlight, and finally she was able to wriggle free and crawl out into the rain. Then the whole crowd of them trooped inside so Mani could use the toilet; the police officers politely refused the offer of a cup of coffee and departed. Mani's mother, Sharon, looked with horror at the mess they'd all made of the floor as they'd come in and declared that she'd come tomorrow and give it a good clean. Joss refused indignantly. Reese pointed out that they still had slave labour in the form of Piri to call on, which earned him a pained look from that quarter. Mani was curled up in her mother's arms and looked as though she was about to fall asleep. The Jones clan departed with many thank-yous and smiles of relief. Joss put her arm around Reese's waist and waved good-bye as the door swung shut behind them.

"Whew," she said. "I think that's about all the action I can deal with for one day."

"Oh, yeah," he agreed fervently.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

It was the next morning when Reese ran the conversation with Piri through his head again. Jared. The guy who had seemingly put Piri up to his attempted burglary. Okay, so he hadn't actually stolen Mani away, but he was obviously a credible enough threat that he had Piri in a blind panic.

It was very tempting to simply find the guy, kick his ass into the middle of next year, and tell him to stay away from Piri and his family, but he knew that wouldn't work. Might even bring down some kind of reprisal on the kid once he and Joss were gone. So. How to put Jared out of the way more permanently? In a completely non-violent, totally legal way, of course….

To be continued...


	12. Chapter 12

Reese's thoughts were interrupted by the expected knock at the door. Piri was there, minus Mani today. He put his back into the floor-cleaning job from the previous night while Reese finished his coffee and took some up to Joss, who was still wallowing her way into full wakefulness.

"Oh, man. This vacation thing is going to get me into trouble once I'm back at work," she said between sips. "Can't hardly get out of bed before eleven, these days."

"That sounds like an invitation," he said with a smile.

"Are you kidding? There's a minor child downstairs."

"Finch sent us here to recharge our batteries. Looks like it's working."

She gave him a sidelong glance, smiling despite herself. "There should be a law against your smirk, you know."

"I was thinking just now, Carter. About this Jared guy," he said to change the subject.

"Mm. The one who put the frighteners on Piri. Yeah, I was thinking, too."  
"Oh?" He wasn't sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing.

"You realise we can't get involved."

"I was scared you were going to say that, Joss-"

"Mr Riley! Ms Carter!" Piri was calling up the stairs.

"Coming, Piri!"

He clattered back down to the living room.

"I'm finished now. Anything else you want done?" the boy asked.

"Uh, no, not right now, I think."

Piri looked down and shuffled his feet. "Um, I was wondering. You guys have Sky, right?"

"You mean cable? Yes, we do."

"Well, we were wondering whether you were planning on watching the cricket. There's a one-dayer on today, see..."

"'We' – that would be you and…?"

"Well, Mum and Dad and Uncle Jerry and Auntie Sharon. And me." Piri looked a little embarrassed. Reese sighed a little to himself. Looked like an afternoon in bed wasn't on the cards after all. Oh, well…

"What time's it start?" He tried to keep his voice from sounding too resigned.

"The game starts at eleven, but Dad and Uncle are just finishing the painting. Could we come over at twelve? Mum says she'll do lunch."

He was about to say yes, then his wits caught up with him. "Gimme a minute, I'd better check..."

Upstairs, Carter rolled her eyes a little. "Tell him okay," she said over her shoulder as she retreated towards the shower.

After Piri had left Reese waited downstairs for Carter to emerge. She came downstairs in jeans and t-shirt with her hair in a towel to join him by the big window looking out to sea.

After a moment she said, "So, you want to do something about Jared."

Reese gave a tiny shrug.

"We can't. It's not our fight, John."

"What if we did something that was legal?"

She snorted. "Well, it'd be a first for you. Oh look, I saw a pig flying past the window there."

He allowed himself a smirk. "No, seriously. I mean, if he's trying to set up some kind of burglary ring, that would be interesting to the local cops, wouldn't it? What if we just did a little digging, found some stuff out and then handed it to the police?"

She stood, considering this, and finally gave a reluctant nod. "Okay. I guess we can do that much. But no more, all right?"

"Okay." He pulled her in to his side, knocking her towel askew as he did so. "Mm. Your hair smells nice." He dropped a kiss onto it.

Joss didn't reply, but he saw the soft smile on her face and placed a trail of kisses down to her shoulder. "Your neck smells nice too."

"I have the feeling," she said to the window, "that one thing is going to lead to another pretty fast here."

"We've still got an hour before Piri and his family arrive to watch cricket," he murmured.

"Oh, well that's all right, then..."

And it was.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

They managed to get themselves upright and decent before the knock on the door, although only just. Joss was still brushing her hair when she heard John letting their visitors in through the kitchen. The slap-slap of a child's flip-flops could be heard on the wooden floor, along with a high-pitched giggle. Mani, presumably. Joss made her way down the stairs. John was ushering the crowd of people into the living room, Sharon and another woman were cheerfully unpacking a cooler in the kitchen. "Hi Ms Carter, I'm Lyn, Nui's wife," said the woman. She was a little taller than her husband, Joss thought, but slim where he was thickset. Maybe that was where Piri got his skinny build from.

"Oh, just call me Joss," said Joss, smiling. Her offer of help was laughingly turned down, so she made her way into the living room. Piri was unloading a box of toys for Mani in the corner of the room. John and the two Jones men were consulting over the remote control, trying to find the right sports channel. Finally they all ended up disposed around the TV, Mani engrossed in some Lego-like blocks in the corner, Piri stretched out on his stomach on the rug, the six adults on two sofas and an armchair. Sharon opened a bag of potato chips and passed it around.

Joss had never seen the game before, though John seemed to know a little about it. The New Zealanders were playing Sri Lanka, and it seemed this was the last game in a series. If Sri Lanka won they would tie the series, so there was something to play for. She was taken aback when it became clear that the game would go on until evening, though. And the names for some of the fielding positions were frankly bizarre. Silly mid-off? Deep square leg? Baseball was way more comprehensible. Although even she was impressed at the reflexes and athleticism of the fielder who dived and reached to pluck a speeding ball out of the air. Without gloves, too. And one of the batters – batsmen, she corrected herself – hit a tremendous shot, lofting the ball far up into the stand.

Nonetheless, her attention wavered after a while. John's arm was lying warm and solid across her shoulder, but she was next to Lyn on the other side.

"So, ah, Lyn – what do you do when it's not vacation time?" she asked – a safely neutral topic, hopefully.

"Oh, I help Nui run the business," she said. It seemed that the Joneses had a business mowing lawns and doing maintenance on the holiday homes scattered about this part of the coast. "We moved here after Nui left the army," Lyn said. "It's never going to make us rich, but it keeps the wolf from the door, and we love the lifestyle here."

Joss racked her brains to think of a way she could gently squeeze some intel on Jared out of Lyn. But she was saved the trouble. When Piri left the room for a bathroom run during an ad break, Lyn turned to her and said, "I just wanted to thank you for helping us out with Piri. He's always been such a good kid. We can't understand what came over him."

John didn't move, but Joss could see he was suddenly listening hard.

"Mm," Joss replied. "Do you think he's fallen in with a bad crowd? Maybe one of his friends put him up to it."

"Well, that could be true," Lyn said. "But I can't really see it. His best mate's a nice lad – Jared. They were thick as thieves until last year when Jared's parents sent him off to boarding school. Since then I haven't seen him really get involved with anyone else." She sighed. "That's the one thing about this place – it's great when you have little ones, but once they hit their teens it gets a bit isolated for them."

The conversation went no further once Piri returned. During the next break in play they got up from the couches to get lunch set out.

The meal was salads and cold meats and home made bread: a dense, moist white loaf with a dark crust. "Rewena bread," Lyn told Joss when she asked. "You use a potato starter instead of yeast, and some mashed potato goes in the dough. Old family recipe." It was delicious, and the two huge loaves were enough for everybody, even the voracious Piri. Then it was back to the game, or rather, meandering conversation interspersed with moments of attention when it got interesting.

"Nice pendant," said Sharon, indicating Joss's greenstone necklace. "Where did you buy it?"

"Oh, I didn't," she said, fingering it. "John gave it to me for Christmas."

"Ah. Good," said Sharon. "That's the proper way to do it. Pounamu, you only ever give it away, or receive it as a gift. Like, it's too precious to be just bought and sold. Only given."

"And it looks like you gave John one too, eh?" Lyn was smiling. "Great minds think alike."

"Fools seldom differ," murmured Jerry from his armchair.

"Hey, remember whose telly you're watching," said his wife.

"Yeah, we'll send you home if you can't behave yourself," Nui added.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

Reese sat next to Joss, replete with good food and feeling…mellow, he decided was the word. The commentary from the cricket, and the comments passed between the others, formed a soothing background noise as his thoughts wandered.

A hotel room in Ankara. They dumped the target's body in the bathtub. An Iranian diplomat, implicated in acquiring software and raw materials for their nuclear program. But not any more.

The hit had been easy – a hand over the guy's mouth while a knife slid between his ribs, right up into his heart. No trouble at all, made easier by the fact that the guy had been taking a piss when his fate had overtaken him. Cleaning blood off the tiled floor was easy.

"Mark's sending someone to take care of that," Kara said to him with a nod towards the bathroom. "Trouble is, there's been some snafu with the guy's visa. We can't just leave the body here to be discovered. Looks like we're stuck here until whenever Mark can get another operative in, which will be morning at least."

"Huh." Reese nodded: a short jerk of the head. The adrenalin was still there, slow to drain from his system. Usually if circumstances allowed he tried to run after a kill, washing away the singing tension in his head with sweat and endorphins. Not tonight, though.

"And look at this," Kara went on, mock surprise in her voice. "Only one bed."

He didn't reply.

"C'mon, Loverboy," Kara murmured. One arm snaked around his waist while a hand caressed his hair. "Uptight as always. Gotta find some way to relax you, hmm?"

He tensed as her breasts brushed his chest. The hand in his hair grew commanding, pressing his head down towards hers. Any other woman would have found his apparent reluctance unsettling, even mildly insulting. Kara seemed to enjoy it, though. Maybe she saw it as a challenge.

Suddenly his body seemed to take over, his arousal sudden and complete. They didn't even make it to the bed.

The next morning Mark's guy arrived with a big suitcase and a plastic sheet and the right tools to dismember the body for transport. He and Kara left discreetly and boarded a fast train for Istanbul. There was carpet burn on his knees and scratch marks on his back, he was pretty sure, but he'd slept like a log after they had finished and all things considered he felt pretty good. He stretched out in his train seat, as best he could, and gazed out the window at the yellow-green fields whipping by.

Damn. She was still in his head. _Thought I'd got rid of her back in Rotorua. What the hell will it take?_

To be continued...


	13. Chapter 13

"Damn it." Reese was lying on his back again, hands behind hid head. Their guests had departed, happy with a win and an insurmountable lead in the cricket series. "It's like 'Whack-a-Mole'. Suddenly she's in my head and I can't get rid of her."

"I saw you go quiet during the afternoon. All of a sudden you weren't here any more." Joss was sitting up on the bed, cross-legged. The bedside lamps gave a soft, warm glow to the room.

There was silence for a long moment. "I hate her," he said quietly. "She won't let me go. Sometimes I feel like none of it was real. Sometimes I feel like none of _this_ is real." A wave of his hand indicated the quiet room, the woman sitting, attentive, on the bed. "I just hate that she still has power over me, even though she's in a million pieces."

Joss took his hand. "It's real. Maybe you just gotta hang on to that."

He shook his head a little. "Why the hell is this happening now? Back in New York it's not a problem. I get flashes, but here it's like I'm being haunted."

Joss leaned back against the wall behind the bed. "Maybe in New York you've got other things to think about. Maybe here you've relaxed enough for some of that stuff to start surfacing."

"Gimme a good gunfight with some mobsters any time, then," he sighed.

"Did you pick up on what Lyn had to say about Jared, though?" asked Joss, obviously trying to change the subject.

"I heard he and Piri were friends until Jared was sent to boarding school, but that was all."

"Mm. Lyn said later on that Jared was sent off to a really exclusive school in Auckland, and since then he and Piri hadn't been seeing much of each other. I asked if it was common for kids here to be sent off like that, and she laughed and said only the rich ones."

"And now Jared is back pressuring Piri into criminal activity. Piri said Jared was going to fence anything he stole. Maybe using contacts from school."

"Sounds like a good theory. But we need more evidence before we can go anywhere near local law enforcement."

Reese rubbed his face. "Well, that's enough for one night, then. Maybe we'll have some inspiration in the morning."

Sleep came surprisingly quickly to him as he curled himself around Joss.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

It was raining when they woke up the next morning.

"For summer, they sure get a lot of rain around here," said Carter grumpily when he brought her her morning coffee.

"Mm. I guess that's how all that green pasture stays so green," he commented.

"I was thinking about Jared," said Joss.

"Yeah. Just about now it would be seriously useful to have Finch on the job."

"True."

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Carter chewing her lip. He decided to put her out of her misery. "Of course, I could use some of what I learned from Finch to find out more."

"Legally?" She raised an eyebrow ironically.

"I have absolutely no idea what the local laws are like," he deadpanned back.

"Ignorance of the law is no excuse, John," she murmured, but he could see she was weakening. Must be the effect of the coffee.

He decided to take that as permission, and got out his laptop, which had been sitting unregarded in his suitcase since their arrival at Auckland.

"What was the name of the school?"

Joss told him. Firewalls, pff. Finch would've been in quicker, of course, but even for him they were no great obstacle. It wasn't long before he was into their main administrative database.

A quick search for students with the first name of Jared who had home addresses in the Coromandel. O'Connell, must be him. He called up Jared's file. A reasonably good student, nothing spectacular. Played rugby in the Second XV. Disciplinary issues? Well, well.

"Joss. Seems Jared was one of a number of students present at a party where drugs were being used. No indication that he was using himself, though."

Joss raised her eyebrows and was about to say something when he added, "There's a note here from what I think might be his homeroom teacher. Says there's concern that he's on the fringes of a group described as 'problematic'."

"Problematic? What's that supposed to mean?"

"I imagine it means rich, entitled and obnoxious."

He opened a new tab. Social media. Jared was an enthusiastic user. Not very discreet in his postings, either – though he stopped short of actually boasting of criminal activity. But to judge by what he posted, he was never without phone, tablet or laptop. A digital native, indeed. And a bit of a bully.

His research was interrupted by Piri's arrival. "Mr Riley? Ms Carter?" the boy called up the stairs.

"Coming, Piri." He pulled on boxers and the awful Santa t-shirt Joss had bought on Christmas Eve, since there was nothing else clean. Piri did a double-take at the "Ho ho, I've been to Hahei" slogan, but didn't comment, especially when Reese put him to work cleaning the downstairs bathroom.

Reese stood gazing out across the bay, listening to the clatter of Piri's cleaning efforts. And aside from hacking the database of that exclusive boarding school, he hadn't needed to do anything illegal to get all the information he needed. Joss should be proud of him, he thought.

Piri came out of the bathroom, pulling off yellow rubber gloves. "Anything else, Mr Riley?"

Reese turned to him. "Not right now, thanks, Piri. But there's still that question: what is there to do around here when it's raining? Aside from Scrabble," he added prudently.

"Um. You can go fishing," said Piri.

"In the rain?" Joss was coming down the stairs and joined them.

"The fish don't care," pointed out Piri.

 _We could always go back to bed,_ Reese thought.

"Or – or there's paintball," said Piri doubtfully.

Surprisingly, Joss perked up at that idea. "Oh yeah? Where?"

"I noticed a place just south of Whitianga," Reese said.

"Yeah, that's the one." Piri hesitated and then blurted "I've got some vouchers for it if you wanted to have a game."

"Why, Piri, that's very kind of you," said Joss. "Yes, we'd love to have a game. Right, John?"

Reese nodded. "Whatever you want, Joss. But we'll pay, Piri. Though we'll need at least one more person to make the numbers even, won't we?"

"Dad'll be in with a grin," said Piri. "He's really good, too. You guys might need to watch out."

"Hm," said Joss, tamping down a smile.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

They piled into the car and drove up to the Jones place, where Piri disappeared inside and emerged with his father after a few moments. He gave them a cheery wave as the two Joneses got into their car. Then it was along the wet dirt road over the hill – Reese was rather pleased at how expert he was getting at piloting the car around the hairpin bends. The weather on the other side of the hill was much the same, though the grey was a little brighter. A sign the rain was letting up? They asked the Joneses when they arrived at the paintball site.

"Hope so," said Nui. "It's New Year's Eve – the O'Connells will be having their barbecue tonight. All invited – are you up for it?"

"Oh, yes," said Joss with a smile. "Absolutely, we are."

Whitianga Paintball was a big place, with a choice of either farmland or forested courses. Reese was happy to stand back and allow Joss and Nui to do the talking. In the end they were loaded up with three hundred paintballs each and led out to the forest course. Since there were only four of them, they decided to make it a manhunt game instead of trying to retrieve flags or defend forts. The goal was to "kill" the opposing team within the time limit of an hour and a half. Hits to body and head only would be considered kills. Nui suggested Piri pair off with Joss. Reese could see that Piri would rather have been with him or his father, but the lad accepted the directive with minimal grumbling.

The rain had gradually lightened – without clearing up completely, though. It was now a persistent drizzle, but the sun seemed to be trying to break through somewhere up above. Every so often the grey would change to a kind of golden haze. It was certainly warm, too.

He and Nui decided to stay together and head downhill towards a small stream. They had ten minutes before the horn sounded and the game began.

"If we stay down here, go north and circle back, we might be able to get behind them," Nui told him in a low voice. They walked very quietly with Nui leading. Reese kept scanning the forest around, senses on high alert. It had been a while since he'd moved like this, and he was pleased to find it all came flooding back.

The forest was what Nui called "regenerating scrub". It consisted of tall spindly manuka trees with grey-brown trunks. Their side branches split off quite a way up, and at the top were masses of tiny leaves way up high. Younger trees were even spindlier. It was a though they were all reaching frantically for the forest canopy, groping towards the light. None of them were strong enough to climb. But in amongst were stout young kauri trees, also reaching upwards. Eventually, Nui said, they would win the race for the canopy and grow into giants with girths many yards around, towering over the forest and living for two thousand years or more. The forest floor was mostly ferns which grew up to about waist height, and so it was possible to see quite a long way. Which made it a big surprise when twenty feet away to one side Joss rose out of the undergrowth and coolly shot Nui in the arm. Piri rose next to her, but his shots went wide. Nui and Reese snapped off return fire, seemingly without much success as they ducked and rolled off the path. There was a thrashing sound from Joss and Piri's position which they left behind them as they dropped to hands and knees and crawled downhill as quickly as they could under the cover of the ferns.

To be continued….


	14. Chapter 14

They holed up in a patch of tall reeds, just under the lip of the stream bank. Water chattered below them, and they could hear birdsong in the trees above. Nui was panting a little, and stared ruefully at the paint splatter on his arm. "Bugger. I'd forgotten how much that hurts."

Reese allowed himself a slight smirk.

"Not that it's anything like what you've had," Nui hastened to add.

Reese didn't reply to this. He peered cautiously out of their hide, but ducked down again. The barrel of a paintball gun was poking out from behind a tree about ten yards away. He caught Nui's eye and put a finger to his lips.

They waited, very quietly. Reese allowed his breathing to slow, relaxed his muscles. Sank into that meditative state where he was aware of everything, poised for action – yet entirely at rest. The minutes went by.

Nui stirred uncomfortably. "D'you think they've gone?" he whispered.

Reese moved again, very slowly and smoothly, to take another look. No dice. The gun barrel was still there. He gave a minute shake of his head, and settled back to wait some more.

Ten more minutes of silent stillness went by. Then they heard the owner of the gun moving off. Nui let out a sigh. "Jeez, you're good at that." His glance at Reese was frankly admiring.

Reese shrugged. "I should be. Used to be what I did."

"Special Forces, right? I thought you might be."

"Yep."

Nui stood, stretching the kinks out of his muscles. "I tried out for the SAS here. Didn't make it, though."

"Oh. Hard luck." Reese tried to inject the right amount of sympathy into his voice.

"Oh, ancient history, man. I wasn't good enough. Didn't have the mental toughness, really."

They began to pick their way along the stream bed, allowing the sound of the water to mask their progress.

"You were in Yugoslavia, though, Piri told me," said Reese.

"Yeah. One of those toothless UN so-called peacekeepers. Like there was a peace to keep." The man sounded bitter.

"Yup. Stuck in the middle, there," sighed Reese.

"Oh. You were there too?"

"Before I joined the Rangers," said Reese. "I was just a grunt back then."

"Like me," said Nui with a laugh.

"First time I killed someone was over there," Reese found himself saying.

"Mm," said Nui. He drew a breath. "I, um..." he trailed off.

There was a pause as they reached a little waterfall and negotiated their way down it.

"Piri seemed to think you'd killed someone," said Reese.

"Huh. Jerry can't keep his bloody mouth shut." Nui shot him a glance. "Yeah, I did. In Bosnia. I ran over someone. He was drunk, lying in the road for God's sake, it was dark and I went right over him in an armoured vehicle."

"Ouch."

"The Commission of Inquiry cleared me of all blame. But it was bloody nasty. Not the highlight of my military career." He gave Reese a sharp glance. "The _first_ time you killed was in Yugoslavia? You got notches on your gun?"

Reese gave a small shrug, wishing he'd kept quiet.

"Special Forces. Huh. Those SAS guys, they don't mix much. Never had much to say for themselves."

"I guess not," said Reese neutrally.

"They did some pretty serious stuff, though. Got their hands dirty. Once I came to my senses I was pretty glad I didn't make the grade. Maybe I'm happier as just plain old Nui Jones the grunt, eh?"

Reese didn't reply.

They came to a sharp bend in the stream. He stopped, holding up a hand. There were voices up to their left. He dropped down on hands and knees and crept up the bank. The ground had opened out into rough pasture. Joss and Piri were there, heads together. Piri was gesturing in the direction of the scrub they had left behind. Joss was shaking her head, unconvinced about something.

Reese kept his eyes on them, and gestured for Nui to come up and join him. When they were both prone against the bank and ready he mouthed "I'll take Joss". On seeing the understanding in Nui's eyes he took his aim, squeezed the trigger and watched the paint bloom on her side just a fraction of a second before Piri looked down in shock at the sudden impact of the paintball on his chest.

And next to him Kara cursed. His guy had dropped like a rock: a head shot, right through the apricot. Lights out and goodbye in about one nanosecond. But her shot had just clipped her target. He was down, scrabbling around in the fallen leaves with one hand clamped to the side of his neck. She scrambled up the stream bank and walked rapidly over to him, pulling her pistol from inside her jacket. Shot the man twice in the face from a couple of feet away and walked back towards Reese, putting the piece away again. Looked down at the blood spatter on her knuckles and casually sucked it off. He admired her cool ruthlessness...

"Hey! John!" Nui was looking at him in concern. "You okay?"

He shook his head to dispel that image from a Czech forest, _six, seven years ago and it still comes bac_ _k. Damn._

They had another game of manhunt, which ended in a draw when neither side was able to hit the other. Then, wet and muddy, they got back into their cars for the drive back home.

"Piri," called Reese as they were about to go. "Is there anywhere in town we can buy electronic components?"

Piri thought for a moment and said "There's a place called PB Tech at the south end of the main drag. They're not very big though."

"Okay, thanks. See you at the O'Connells." He ducked back inside the car before Piri could follow up with a question.

Carter was looking a question at him as they drove. "What are we going shopping for, John?"

"I have a plan for dealing with Jared."

"A legal plan?"

"Mostly. I think." He drove for a little while, then added, "Non-violent, anyway."

Joss looked out the window, evidently debating with herself about how much she really wanted to know. Finally curiosity won out.

"So. Tell me."

Reese smiled a little. "You ever take Taylor to see _Toy Story_? The original?"

"Yeah, we had it on DVD for years."

"I got to thinking about that movie, and it gave me an idea..."

POI*POI*POI*POI*

PB Tech was exactly the kind of store Reese had been hoping to find. When they got back to the car they had a good supply of hardware, all the kind of stuff Finch had stashed away as a matter of course. Not as high-end as Finch's, or the stuff the Agency used to supply, but good enough.

Joss was still shaking her head over _Toy Story_.

"I would still love to know how you ever got to see that movie, John. Wouldn't have thought it was your usual taste."

"Well, no, it's not. One of the guys got some bootleg DVDs sent over from the States, but his girlfriend had gotten the disks mixed up. We thought we were getting _Die Hard with a Vengeance_ , but we got _Toy Story_ instead."

"Wow, I bet the reaction was… memorable."

"We were pretty pissed," he agreed reminiscently. "I bet his four-year-old wasn't too pleased when he found his _Toy Story_ disk had gone, too."

Joss snorted. "Okay, so we're loaded up with some technology of questionable legality-"

"Hey, it's all legal!" he protested.

"Won't be by the time you've finished adapting it. And I'm pretty sure the use you're planning isn't quite on the right side of the law, either."

"If you've got a better idea I'd like to hear it."

She sighed. "It beats allowing this kid to intimidate Piri. Not to mention any others in his circle of friends. So okay, I'm with you. But what I was about to say was, are we going to bring Piri in on this?"

Reese pulled the car out onto the road again as he thought about this. "We're going to need his help for some of it. Or at least, it'll be easier with his help. I think we keep him well away from anything that might get him in trouble."

"How?"

There was another long pause as he contemplated the options. "I guess we tell him straight out. We have a plan to take care of Jared, we need one piece of information from him, and that's all we tell him. I think he'll trust us."

Joss snorted again. "Well, we've played paintball. I guess that counts for something."

"Getting shot at together is a bonding experience, Carter. Admit it."

That drew a smile. "When you put it like that, I have to agree."

POI*POI*POI*POI*

The afternoon passed quickly enough. Reese spread out his newly-acquired tools on the kitchen counter and began adapting some of his hardware. For his plan to work he was going to need eyes on Jared almost constantly. Some of this could be achieved by hacking the numerous electronic devices the kid routinely carried, but there was also the need to go old school with some serious surveillance. He was slightly bemused by the way he relaxed into the job of putting together the bugs and cameras. When he'd first joined the Agency the course covering this stuff had been an unexpected pleasure. He'd never done much electronics before, and when he was first confronted with the tiny objects he had worried and fumbled and dropped bits on the floor. The women in his class, by contrast, had been naturals with their smaller hands and fingers. But a bit of perseverance had borne fruit and he graduated near the top of the class. It all came down to breathing, like using a sniper rifle… He felt his thoughts drifting into dangerous waters, and got up to pace around the room, rubbing the small of his back and shaking out the kinks. He looked out across the bay. The rain was definitely clearing. There would be good weather for the barbecue that evening, which was great. He was starting to really look forward to it.


	15. Chapter 15

The O'Connell house wasn't just a house. It was a mansion. The letterbox by the road was the same as the neighbours' – wooden, with peeling paint and the name daubed on by hand. But once past the gate, the driveway became a neatly gravelled, well compacted surface which wound up and across the hillside. There was a fringe of bush lower down, then pasture, green-gold in the last of the sunlight breaking through the clouds. Finally the car rattled across a cattle stop and through another belt of native forest until a last rise left the trees behind again and they emerged onto a flat, grassy hilltop. The house was modern, flat-roofed and had huge windows running floor to ceiling almost the whole way around. With good reason. This high up, the view was stunning. Inland, the hills were a breathtaking vista of slopes and crests and ravines, like huge waves in a stormy sea frozen and made solid. Some were in pasture, some blended into the forested mass of the Coromandel ranges off to the north and west. South and east, the coast stretched away – a view similar to that from the hill road (assuming you weren't clinging onto the steering wheel and praying). The headlands and small offshore islands blended together into a violet haze as the ocean out east slipped into twilight. The lasts rays of the sun, almost horizontal, lit everything up in a soft golden light.

A teenage boy with sunburnt skin, red hair and freckles appeared with a smile and pointed them to a place to park among the other cars.

"Gidday, I'm Jared," he said cheerily. "You guys would be the Americans from down on the beach, right?"

"That's us," said Joss pleasantly. "I'm Joss and this is John." She held up two bottles of wine from the kitchen cupboard. "Where can I take these?"

"Mum's in the kitchen," said Jared. "I'll take you over there." He turned and led them across the lawn towards the house.

"Not quite what I was expecting," murmured Joss.

"We'll see," said John just as quietly. Up on top of the hill they were back in cell phone coverage, and so he had his phone out, force pairing with Jared's.

The kitchen was fully as palatial as the rest of the house: granite workbenches, an enormous refrigerator, tasteful decor. Sabrina Drake would have found plenty to like, Joss thought. Jared's mother accepted the wine gracefully, and then they were herded out onto the patio with the rest of the barbecue guests. It seemed this event was a local tradition, just as the Christmas night barbecue down near the beach was. Abby and Jason were there, minus Sam. Nui and his family were present too, though Mani was home with her Mom. Too many late nights, Jerry told them with a grin. And Mani was pretty tired, too.

Joss laughed dutifully at the joke. John was scanning through his phone, evidently checking out what Jared had been up to on it. She covered for him by engaging Abby and Jason in an animated conversation about their adventures in Rotorua. In a few minutes John put the phone away in his pocket, smiling apologetically to their company. "Sorry, first opportunity to check messages in the last couple of days – you know how it is..."

"You should be ashamed of yourself, mate. The whole reason for coming here is to avoid all that garbage," Jason said with a chuckle.

"It better not have been business," Joss agreed, getting into the spirit of the deception.

John looked shamefaced. "Sorry, couldn't resist."

"Oh, John, remember we're on vacation," she sighed.

He grimaced. "Actually, there was one message on there which can't really wait. Can I talk to you a moment about it, Joss?"

They made apologies to Jason and Abby and made their way to a quiet spot. "Okay, give," said Joss.

"Well, he may talk nice when people are watching, but on his phone he's a different person." Reese passed her the phone and she scrolled quickly down the SMS conversation he had on its screen, skimming through it rapidly.

 _Got any shit 4 me?_

 _Nah_

 _y not?_

 _Jamie got caught_

 _fuckwit!_

 _Stashed it though_

 _Where?_

 _Dunno trying 2 find out_

 _olds having party NYE_

 _deal with it after_

 _FIND IT_

 _okay cool_

 _BETTER BE or we come looking 4 u_

 _cool cool_

"Huh. Drugs? Stolen goods?" Joss pursed her lips. "It's still not enough to hand anything to the police."

"So we're on then?"

She suppressed a smile at the spark of delight in his eyes and sighed. "Okay. Let's go talk to Piri."

There were fewer kids and teenagers at this party – perhaps some had departed on their own vacations after Christmas, she thought as they wove their way through the crowd. Piri was staying mostly with his family. Considering he was visiting his former best friend's place, he seemed a little tense.

"Piri, can we have a private word with you, please?" Joss gave her friendliest smile.

Piri's forehead wrinkled, but he shrugged and said "Okay," and followed them over to the seaward part of the garden, away from the smell of barbecuing meat and the press of people. Nui gave a sharp glance at them as they left, but did not try to follow.

"Piri, we have a plan to help you out with Jared," said Joss without any preamble. "We just need one thing from you. We need access to his bedroom. Can you show us where that is?"

"You're what?" Piri looked shocked. "You're not going to plant something in there? Get him into trouble?"

"Huh. Not a bad idea, Piri." John looked momentarily diverted, but before Joss could say anything he added, "No. Nothing like that. We want to keep you out of it, though. So just show me where it is and leave me to it."

"Although you could lend a hand by distracting Jared. It won't take long," Joss added.

"Uh..." said Piri. His expression was a strange combination of blank and perturbed, but he began to walk with them towards the house.

There was almost no-one inside, since the food was being dished up out on the patio. They kicked their shoes off at the door and went inside. Across the cool tiled floor of the kitchen and into the house. Thick, soft carpet underfoot. The very last of the sunlight caught a skylight high up under the sloping roof. One man, red-headed like Jared, was coming towards them down the long passageway which ran down the spine of the house. He twitched a smile to Piri, who smiled back and said loudly, "The toilet's round that corner and third on the left," as they passed him.

Once the man was gone, Piri said very quietly "Round the corner and the last door before the TV room. The windows look out onto the front lawn, but I don't think anyone's there right now."

"Thanks," said Joss just as quietly. She touched John's sleeve. "How about I go out there and keep people away from the window while you do your thing?"

"Sounds good to me," he replied, and turned away.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

Reese poked his head around the bedroom doorway. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves in a Nordic kind of look. Surprisingly tidy. Maybe they have a maid, he thought. No time to ponder such things now, though. He moved about the room, finding homes for all the electronic items stowed in his pockets: cameras, audio bugs, and the little extras he'd wired up that afternoon. Bookshelves, light fittings, the wardrobe… ah, that was where the boy stowed all his junk. It was heartening that he wasn't such a paragon of neatness after all. The cascade when he opened the closet door made it hard to put things back the way they were. He wasn't unduly worried, though. Jared seemed unlikely to notice that his mess was no longer exactly the way it had been when he left it.

He was almost whistling by the time he finished planting the last of his bugs, and he had to suppress the impulse to twitch the lapels of the black suit jacket he wasn't wearing into place as he left. A job well done...

Outside Joss was sitting on a garden bench with a glass of wine and a plate of food keeping a watchful eye on the access to the side of the house Jared's room was on. As the light faded Reese dug into steak, some kind of roast vegetable salad involving sweet potato, carrot and Thai spices, and crusty French bread. The wine was something crisp and white and well chilled. Stars were coming out overhead, and he leaned into Joss and put his arm around her and gazed up at the night sky.

"Gorgeous, isn't it," came a voice beside him. Nui, with a bottle of beer in his hand.

Reese smiled and raised his glass. "Cheers." Nui clinked his bottle against it.

"Stars look amazing tonight," Reese said after they'd both drunk.

"Yep." Nui was gazing up at the sky too. "You know these stars? The Southern Cross, up there-" he gestured with his bottle. "The Pointers, those two stars that point you to the Cross, they're the two front feet of the Centaur, but that's such a flippin' great big constellation I c'n never keep it in my head. And over there, Orion with his sword hanging upside down. For you folks anyway." He breathed beer over them.

"You know a lot of stars, Nui?" asked Joss.

"Enough to keep me out of trouble." Nui smiled to himself. "Though I'm not so hot on the Northern Hemisphere stars. Sergeant Manawanui Te Rangi Wiremu Jones got himself and his squad into some strife when he couldn't locate the Pole Star in Bosnia one night. Which was kind of ironic, since Te Rangi means the heavens." He took another swig of his beer. "Of course, no one else knew it either."

Reese smiled a little at the story, and sipped his wine.

"The night sky in the desert is something else," said Joss dreamily. "Like...like diamonds on black velvet. Lots of people say that, but it's true."

"You seen service too?" Nui arched his eyebrows.

"Yeah. Iraq and Afghanistan."

"Huh." Nui raised his bottle again in a silent toast before taking another swig.

"Of course, you didn't get to see the sky much," said Joss. "Stuck on the base and all. At night the perimeter was lit up brighter than day. No starlight got through that kind of glare. But just a couple of times I got out. Looked up, and..." her voice trailed off.

They sat in silence for a little while. Nui cleared his throat. "So, John. You got any stories to tell?"

Reese smiled at the crude attempt to pry, simply sipped at his wine again and let the moment slide past.

Nui drained the last of his beer, nodded and made off into the crowd. A little while after that the fireworks began, blotting out the spectacle of the sky. The party warmed up, and more people came over to investigate the Americans. He found himself separated from Joss and trying to explain football to a knot of men who refused to entertain the idea that a game where people wore padding and _helmets_ , for Chrissake, could be anything but a game for pussies. Apparently the last time the American rugby team, which he was surprised to find existed, had played the All Blacks they had been slaughtered 6-74. This was evidence enough for the New Zealanders, and Reese could smell the testosterone in the air. So he smiled and put his hands up in surrender. Nothing to prove here, and no-one would thank him for defending his country's honour in this particular setting. Later still he found himself linking arms with some of the guys and bellowing out "Auld Lang Syne" with the best of them, sporting differences forgotten - for the moment at least. It was very late – or early – when they finally got into the car for the short drive back down the hill to the beach. The wheeling stars were the only witnesses when he and Joss welcomed the new year in in their own way. And that was fine by him.

To be continued...


	16. Chapter 16

The knock at the door at ten that morning wasn't Piri. It was Nui instead.

"Morning, John," he said as Reese opened the door. "I was wondering if you'd like to take a walk on the beach with me." The way he said it, it wasn't really a request. More like Sergeant Manawanui Te Rangi Wiremu Jones in action again. Reese recognised the tone – he'd used it himself a time or two.

His brows rose in curiosity. "Okay, Nui," he said after a pause. It was overcast outside, and the breeze had a very slightly cooler edge to it this morning, so he grabbed a light jacket from the sofa in the living room and shrugged it on as he stepped through the door.

The two men walked down to the beach in silence. The white sand stretched ahead of them, the tide a long way out this morning.

"So, Nui. What's this about?" Reese asked eventually.

Nui didn't reply for a moment. "I guess this is about me putting two and two together," he said slowly. "See, there's this guy turns up here for a beachside holiday. Very mysterious. When my son is foolish enough to try to burgle his house, boy does he put the frighteners on him. Rightly so, of course, but..." He shook his head. "You should have seen Piri in the wee small hours of Christmas morning. I rumbled him coming home, but he was shaking like a leaf. Said the guy down at the Grant bach was a total psycho, threatened to chop him up and feed him to the sharks – 'But he wasn't joking, Dad. He'd'a done it' – ha! Wish I'd been a fly on the wall."

Reese shrugged his shoulders, smiling a little at the relish in Nui's voice.

"But then there's all those scars you've got. Did you really work in the police in New York?"

"Yeah," said Reese. "Yeah, I did."

"You must've been the unluckiest cop in history, then. But I'm picking you got most of those before you turned cop, right?"

Reese was silent.

"And I know a combat flashback when I see one. Yesterday, just after we won at paintball. You were white as a sheet. So there's this guy who's been in Special Forces, got the scars, both sorts, to prove it. Killed a lotta people. Got a beautiful lady, they both love each other, you can see that. But I'm thinking, maybe he's having some trouble putting his past behind him."

They walked on silently for several minutes, meandering across the sand to the water's edge.

"I can't tell you much," said Reese abruptly. "Not about what I did. Not about what I do now. But there's one thing that's been bothering me."

A wave came in, lapped up to where they were standing, retreated again with a hiss.

"I had a partner. Kara. We worked together. Closely. For years. She was..." his voice trailed off. He swallowed. Tried again. "She was like a mentor. But not in a good way. I, I, I..." again he couldn't find the words. His mouth was dry.

Nui was standing looking out to sea. He made no sign that he had heard.

"Kara was good. Good at her job, I mean. We killed people, for our government. Together. She was beautiful. She was horrible. I wanted her, sometimes. Other times, I wanted to escape her. Couldn't." _Still can't,_ he realised.

Nui turned to look at him, a crease between his eyes. "She went places you didn't want to go. And took you along with her."

"Yes! Yes, that's it!" He felt relief. The man understood. "Sometimes, I'm still there. She's dead now, but she still pulls me in. The last week or so, it's been like she's haunting me..."

Nui looked out to sea. "Mana. You see, John, it's all about mana."  
"What?" Reese was puzzled.

"Mana is like... authority. Honour. Power. It's a spiritual force. Everyone has it, and each person's mana is unique. It can be gained by performing good actions, or lost by evil or foolish ones. Like when Piri broke into your house – he damaged his mana, and our family's mana. That's why he had to make amends, so he could restore it. But this woman, she had a lot of mana. See, in the old days there was a kind of… like a sorcerer, I guess. They'd violate taboos, deliberately. Like, they would eat excrement, perform acts like that which would normally destroy a person's mana. But for these guys, it was like they went right through mana and out the other side. They could become extremely powerful. That's what I think this woman Kara did. She ended up with real force, real power. A very dark kind of mana, but mana still. That's what you felt. That's what you responded to."

They paced further along the sand.

"Joss. She's got mana, too," Nui continued. "You feel the pull of it in her. It's different from that other one's, because she's a different person. But it's still mana and that's why you feel the pull."

It made sense. Reese breathed in, relishing the clean tang of the sea breeze.

"Your own mana – well, sounds like you damaged it. But mana can be restored. You chose to restore it. You never went down that dark road. Joss chose a toki for you, and she chose right. That toki you wear, it's made of pounamu, it's a gift from someone you prize. A taonga – a treasure. It's got a mana of its own. So wear it, John, and let it symbolise the restoration of _your_ mana." Nui gave a decisive nod.

Reese fingered the toki, warm where it rested against his skin. "How do I get rid of her? Kara, I mean."

"What, you think I'm some kind of a native shaman? Gonna chant some mumbo-jumbo over you and banish the spirits?" For a second Nui sounded angry. He sighed. "My old Koro, my grandad, he would have known what to do. But his whole generation, they're all gone now. A lot of wisdom died with them. So I don't really know. Just the old advice, I guess. Give it time. Keep busy. Hold on to your friends." They walked on a little further.

Maybe it was his imagination, but did he feel just a little bit lighter? As though some bond had loosened, some chain broken?

"Thank you," he said quietly. "I owe you a debt."

"Huh. And I owe you one too. For Piri's sake, if nothing else. That's how life works. We're all indebted to each other. If we're smart, we do something to even things up, to pay something of that debt." Nui was looking out to sea again, but he turned to Reese and smiled warmly. "Just glad to help, John."

They turned and began the walk back towards the house.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

Nui refused the offer of refreshments and strode off up the driveway. Reese came inside and hung his jacket up thoughtfully. Joss was sipping coffee. She looked up at him as he came into the living room. "Good talk?" she asked.

"Yeah." He didn't feel like sharing right then. Joss seemed to sense it, and just moved over to give him room on the sofa.

"So," she said, obviously changing the subject. "Are we ready to start in on Jared?"

He felt his mouth stretch into a predatory grin. "Oh, yes. He should be waking up about now."

He fetched the laptop from upstairs, opened it and booted it up. Joss snuggled in tight next to him to watch.

The laptop screen had split into a three-by-four grid, each image showing Jared's bedroom from a slightly different angle. The boy was sitting up in a rumpled bed, a laptop on his knees, watching something, some streamed TV most likely.

"Twelve cameras?" said Joss. "Isn't that overkill?"

"I wanted some to be obvious enough he'd find 'em," said Reese.

"Oh, I see. Let him think he's got you beat, and then turn the screws a little tighter, huh?"

"You're catching on, Carter."

"Being corrupted, more like," she said, but she was smiling.

"Okay," he murmured. "Let's start simple, then."

He opened a new window which gave him access to the cellphone provider's interface: a clunky solution to the problem of lack of cellphone coverage at the beach. Finch would probably have come up with something more elegant, but this would do. He typed into the computer: _I can see you_

In the bedroom, Jared's phone whistled. He picked it up and glanced at it. Froze when he saw the screen, then relaxed with a slightly nervous chuckle.

 _Don't laugh too soon. I really can see you_ , Reese typed.

The phone whistled again. When he saw the screen Jared jumped, any humour wiped from his face. He got up and closed the curtains.

 _That won't help. I can see you, Jared_

"Shit!" Jared whispered.

 _Now, now. No need to swear_

"Who the hell are you?"

 _I'm sure you would just love to know_

Jared stared at the phone and turned it off.

Reese leaned back, smiling, and typed some more into the computer on his lap.

Jared's tablet chirped.

On Reese's laptop screen the boy jumped out of bed and stood tensely in the middle of his room. He looked at the tablet as though it was a snake. Then his second phone chirped at him. He was starting to look thoroughly spooked when Reese turned on one of the speakers he'd planted and whispered "I can see you..." His voice, distorted to hide his accent, came out as a ghastly tinny monotone.

There was a slight thud as Jared overturned a chair in his haste to leave the room.

Next to Reese on the sofa Carter was convulsed with laughter. "Oh, man. That was too easy..."

He was finding it hard to keep a straight face himself. "I can see how Finch got into this game. Damn, that was fun."

"Okay, so now we've got his attention. How are we going to scare him straight?"

"We'll keep this up over the next day or so. Let him find a few of the bugs I planted. And then we'll have a little talk."

POI*POI*POI*POI*

It was several hours before Jared gathered enough courage to return to his bedroom. They decided to give him a little while to regain some sense of security before starting in on him again, and so Joss persuaded John to take a more extended walk along the shore, over to the headland at the southern end of the bay. Someone she'd spoken to at the party the previous evening had told her there were penguins nesting just around the headland, and so they hiked over there to have a look. The birds were rather sweet, Joss thought: tiny little penguins only a foot or so tall with fine slate-blue coats and white fronts instead of the black and white tuxedo look you usually associated with the birds. They made a soft cheeping sound as they moved around on the rocks. No nests or chicks in sight, but a little further along they were rewarded with a single seal perched on a rock in the sun. Joss's acquaintance had warned her not to go too close: seals were sometimes aggressive and packed a mean bite. But she managed a great selfie with John, with the seal in the background. Once they were back in cellphone coverage she would send it off to Taylor. They turned a little reluctantly and strolled back along the foreshore, hand in hand and talking of this and that. Pretty nearly a perfect day, she thought as they walked. And there was the pleasant prospect of putting the fear of God into Jared when they got back. _He sure has been a bad influence_ , she thought, stealing a glance at John's profile. Her lips turned up. _But only in the_ _best_ _possible way_.

To be continued….


	17. Chapter 17

When he booted up the laptop for another session with Jared, Reese found that some of the views of Jared's room had gone blank. Great, the boy had found some of the bugs, much as planned. Neither of the speakers, though, which was good.

Jared was lying on his back on his bed with his hands behind his head. He gazed moodily up at the ceiling.

With Joss sitting next to him on the sofa hugging his knees, Reese moistened his lips and said carefully, "Hiya, buddy."

There was a momentary lag before the audio from the room came through. That frightful robotic voice was seriously creepy, he thought happily. Jared certainly thought so, at least. He jumped at least a foot off his bed and was making for the door when Reese said "Stop!" He used the other speaker, the better to confuse Jared as to where the sound was coming from.

"Who the hell are you?" whispered Jared.

Reese lay back on the sofa and cuddled Joss to him with his free arm. He chuckled into the microphone. The sound came out at the other end as a horrible metallic "poink-poink-poink".

"I'm your worst nightmare, Jared."

The kid looked as though he was about to leave, and so Reese added, "Let me show you what I can do."

He activated the boy's laptop remotely, blessing the fact that whether from ignorance or arrogance Jared had failed to take even the most basic of security precautions. "Take a look at your laptop, Jared."

Jared hesitated for a moment. Then he crossed the room slowly to where his laptop sat on the floor, half under the bed. He sat down on the bed and opened it up, frowning slightly.

"You'll notice I have your bank accounts here. It was very careless of you to have your browser remember your passwords for you, by the way." Next to him on the sofa Joss was starting to giggle. "So, what's your favourite good cause, Jared? Doctors Without Borders is one of my pet charities, but I'm open to suggestions."

Jared was staring at his screen, frozen. He moistened his lips. "No. No, please."

"You have some very impressive balances there. I'm guessing all that money didn't come from legal activities, right?"

"Shit. I'm, I'm gonna..."

"Gonna what? Intimidate me? Threaten me? You're good at that, aren't you." Reese chuckled again: poink-poink-poink. "Oh, Jared. You have no idea what you're dealing with, do you. Right, Doctors Without Borders it is." He tapped on the keyboard and hit the "Make Transfer" button with great satisfaction.

In his room Jared let out a yell of rage and threw the laptop at the wall.

"Well, that was dumb," said Reese. "Not like you have the money to replace it any more, is it?"

The boy was up and standing in frustrated anger in the middle of his floor. He glared around the room. "Doesn't matter, whoever you are. Mum and Dad'll just give me more."

"You think so?" purred Reese. "If they find out what you've been up to, you'll be lucky if they keep you under their roof. You've been a very bad boy, Jared."

"You don't know anything!"

"Care to bet on that?" Reese paused. "Though on second thoughts, maybe gambling isn't a good idea for you right now. Considering your financial state."

Jared was standing there, opening and closing his fists. Then he gave a very deliberate middle finger and marched from the room.

"Hmm," said Joss after a pause. "I think you just made an enemy."

Reese was putting the laptop aside. "I give him about forty-eight hours before he cracks. This is going to be fun."

"So what about your threat to tell his parents what he's been up to? _We_ don't even know for sure."

"Finch told me a story a while back. It seems Arthur Conan Doyle played a prank, some time early last century. He sent the same telegram to about ten respectable pillars of the community. It said 'Flee at once – all is discovered'. Story goes, within a day every one of them had packed up and left the country."

"And your point is?"

He stretched, languorously. "Everyone's got something to hide, Carter. It shouldn't be too hard to find out Jared's dirty little secret."

She sniffed a little at this. "Well, in the meantime we need to eat. Any ideas about dinner?"

POI*POI*POI*POI*

Joss almost regretted suggesting they try the takeaway shop on the other side of the hill. The gravelled roller coaster track which passed for the road was losing little of its… interest… with their repeated trips along it. The near-collision with a car towing a trailer with three motor cycles on it added a certain amount of adrenalin to the journey. When they reached the chippie, as the locals called their fast food joint, they found standing room only. There was a lengthy wait for their order, and she was becoming distinctly surly. John had retreated into thoughtful silence, maybe turning over in his mind the best way to leverage Jared.

When the food arrived it was worth it, though. Two paper-wrapped parcels contained fries (which the locals called chips) and deep-fried, crumbed fish – a local species called terakihi. Small sachets of tomato ketchup and tartare sauce completed the ensemble. They decided not to make the food wait to get back over the hill, instead electing to walk over to the beach and sit there feasting and watching the sky out to sea grow pale and washed out. Small waves lapped on the sand, the wide bay smooth and calm. Behind them, if they cared to look, the heavens were aflame with a most glorious sunset.

"Mmmm," said John, taking a bite of the crumbed terakihi. "Salty, crunchy, fatty goodness..."

"I think it's gonna take about a two-mile run to get this off my hips," agreed Joss. "Worth it, though," she added, dipping her fish in some sauce.

After they had finished they sat a while longer, holding hands and enjoying the deepening twilight. Finally they got up, dusted sand from their clothing, and wandered back to the car, dumping their paper wrappings in a handy trash bin on the way.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

Joss was sound asleep that night when there was a muffled thud and the sound of breaking glass. As she struggled to surface, she became aware of a flickering orange light on the ceiling. Instinct kicked in and she snapped awake. John was already out of bed and clattering down the stairs, and she followed. Before they made it to the back door there was a tremendous thump and the house vibrated as though something had hit it. They didn't need to open the back door to know what had happened, but they did so anyway. John's face was set grimly as they surveyed the burning remains of their rental car.

Joss ran her hands over her face. "Oh, boy. That kid sure knows how to leave a calling card, doesn't he."

A muscle in John's cheek worked. "Well, this changes things a little," he murmured.

Lights were going on in the Grant house, just visible through the trees.

"It's not going to be long before the local police arrive for something like this," said Joss. "What's our story?"

"We play dumb," he said instantly. "Can't imagine what caused it, we're just ordinary tourists. We're shocked and horrified, considering cutting our visit short, all that kind of stuff."

"Really? Hasn't this gone far enough?"

"We really have to deal with Jared now, Joss. And I think I have an idea of how to turn this against him."

As he spoke he grabbed a jacket hanging by the door and thrust his feet into a pair of jandals, as the locals referred to flip-flops. "I better get up there and reassure the Grants."

"I'll come too. You're right, the police will be here soon."

They walked together up the dark driveway, to be met at the door by Mrs Grant. Resigned to the loss of her night's sleep, Joss surrendered to the flow: the concerned police officers who arrived about twenty minutes later; members of the local volunteer fire brigade whose truck laboured down the incline and along the driveway, breaking tree branches as it came. There wasn't much left of the car by that time, but they sprayed the smoking remains with foam for form's sake.

Their statement to the police was completely truthful, so far as it went: woke up to the sound of breaking glass, went out to investigate, found car burning. End of story. No, absolutely no idea who might have done such a thing. Completely uneventful trip so far. Sad shakes of the head. Who would do such a thing? No, nothing in the car, thank God. Just glad no-one was hurt...It went on and on and on. Joss was ready to scream by the time they all left. Four in the morning. Ugh. She was sure that sleep was not going to be possible after the last few hours, but once they had finally climbed into bed she found she was wrong. Reassured perhaps by the solid warm presence of John, holding her to his chest like a teddy bear – she smiled muzzily at the image – she drifted off to sleep. 

POI*POI*POI*POI*

After he had fortified himself with the strongest, hottest cup of coffee it was in his power to make, Reese settled himself on the sofa with the laptop. Joss joined him, nursing her own coffee. A quick inspection of the local news websites confirmed his fears – they had made the front page. He sighed at the thought of having to deal with reporters, not to mention the rental car company. But first things first. He started up the program for his surveillance feeds.

Jared was lying again on his bed, a tablet propped against his knees.

"Good morning, Jared," Reese said cheerily.

Jared craned his head around, looking for the source of the sound. No problem, Reese thought. He toggled the controls for the speakers, so his voice would feed out of them at random and completely scramble Jared's ability to localise the sound.

"How are you feeling this morning?" Reese continued in the same cheerful tone. The tinny distortion filtered out most of the cheeriness, but enough stayed in to convey the right impression, he thought.

"I bet I'm feeling a lot better than you," sneered Jared.

"Oh? Why would that be?"

Jared scanned the room with a don't-be-stupid look on his face. "Because I torched your fuckin' car is why. And if you don't leave me alone, it'll be your house next."

To be continued….


	18. Chapter 18

_A/N: Sorry everyone for how horribly long it's taken to get this chapter done. Real Life intervened in a big way, and trying to get the Muse to cough up anything has been like pulling teeth. Much of this chapter has been written at a rate of about one sentence per day! (At least, that's what it feels like.) So sorry again, and on with the show…._

Reese didn't reply to the teenager's threat.

"See, I started wondering why you were bothering to disguise your voice," said Jared sneeringly. "Then I realised there must be something I'd recognise about it. And why did you suddenly turn up now? Then it hit me. The Americans down at the beach. It must be you. Am I right?"

Reese began to laugh. Poink-poink-poink. "Oh, Jared. Are you telling me you set some poor tourists' car on fire thinking they were me? Oh, boy."

Jared froze, all the colour leaking from his face. He said nothing as his face betrayed the dawning realisation that he had made a huge mistake. John continued to laugh. "You thought I was disguising my voice because you might recognise it? It's all about you, right? Did it never occur to you that there are lots of reasons for using a speech generator? And what made you think I was even in New Zealand? I could do this from anywhere in the world."

Jared was still motionless.

"Anything to say? Cat got your tongue?"

Jared seemed to have stopped breathing. Finally he forced the words out through colourless lips. "Who are you? Why are you doing this to me? What do you want?"

It was Reese's turn to remain still. At last he replied.

"Who I am is none of your damn business. Though I give you fair warning – whatever and whoever I am now, I used to kill people for a living and in your case I might just go back to that. If you provoke me enough." Rage was thickening his voice, even through the distortion, and he stopped for a moment to let it clear. "I'm doing this to you because your activities came to my notice, and I don't like bullies, which is what you are. What I want is for you to stop. So I'm giving you exactly one hour to hand yourself in to the police for the arson of the car. If you are even one minute past that deadline I will make sure that the whole world knows what you've been up to. Your parents first, then the police."

As he spoke, Reese was typing. "Take a look at your Friendczar page, Jared." Beside him Joss was smiling grimly. Jared's Friendczar page now contained a full account of the burning of the car, and a proud avowal of his responsibility.

Jared swiped and tapped at his tablet screen. "Shit. Shit, you can't."

"It goes live in an hour, Jared. Clock's ticking."

As Reese cut the mike Joss said, "Do you think that's wise? Stampeding him like that? He might come clean to the police about more than just the car."

"A bully is always a coward, Joss. What can he tell them? There's no way he'll want to explain just how his bank accounts got so fat, and I'm pretty sure I haven't left any tracks to find. It'll look like he made that transfer himself. And locating the rest of the bugs in his room would take a sweep from a serious intelligence agency. I'm picking the local law enforcement doesn't have access to that kind of expertise. It's a gamble, but not a big one," he finished, stretching.

"Hm. I guess you're right. With only an hour he's not going to have much time to figure you must be local to have sneaked the bugs into his room."

Reese allowed himself a slow smile. "If he does, I might have to go to Plan B."

Joss sighed and rolled her eyes. "And Plan B is…?"

"Find him, kick his ass into the middle of next year, and tell him to stay away from his former associates. On pain of...pain."

Joss was shaking her head slowly. "I can't take you anywhere, can I?"

Reese gave her an unrepentant smirk.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

Any further discussion was interrupted by a knock on the door. A sandy-haired police officer, neat in his dark blue kevlar vest and pale blue short-sleeved shirt. Not one of those they'd met during the night. Several more cops lurked a few paces behind. They were here to get more forensics from the car, the scorched and oxidised remains of which were surrounded with red and white police tape. Joss could see Piri orbiting uncertainly beyond them, obviously not quite sure whether to come in for his ten o'clock date with their housework or to leave them to deal with the crisis. Joss beckoned him over as she chatted to the cop.

"Ah, just to let you know," the guy said as he turned to rejoin his team, "we've been fielding calls from the media since about eight this morning. I would think they'll be arriving over soon. We can release a statement on your behalf if you like, but if you don't want to deal with them you might need to find a way to be elsewhere."

Joss felt like tearing her hair out. Great – her and John's faces all over the front page. Finch would have a fit. "Oh, yes, a police statement would be just fine, very much appreciated." Getting away from here would be a bit more difficult, she thought, glancing again at the burned-out car.

Piri came to the rescue. "Um, Ms Carter, if you guys want to lie low for a while you could come and stay with us," he offered. "Uncle Jerry and Auntie Sharon and Mani are going back to Hamilton today, there's plenty of room."

Joss was about to open her mouth to refuse politely when John said from behind her, "Thanks, Piri. We might just do that, for today at least. Until the rental car company can get us a replacement vehicle."

"Excuse us," said Joss to Piri. She dragged John back in the house. "Are you sure about this? They're a nice family, but we don't want them looking over our shoulders, do we?"

"Think about it, Joss. What could be more natural than the two frightened tourists shifting out of the house for a night or two? Besides, further up the hill there's cell phone coverage. Might make dealing with Jared just a little easier. Though I don't think there's much more dealing that needs to happen by now." He checked his watch.

They went back to the doorway where Piri waited patiently.

"Thanks for your offer," Joss said formally. "We would be delighted. We'll just pack some things up and be right over."

Packing didn't take very long. She suspected John would be quite happy with nothing but a toothbrush and a SIG; considering the SIG was a non-starter the small bag with underwear, a spare shirt and the laptop stuffed in the top was not bad. Her own bag had little more: just her hair dryer instead of the laptop. They were walking up the driveway within ten minutes, Piri insisting on carrying her bag for her, to John's amusement.

It seemed there was a shortcut up to the Jones house, which involved a stiff climb up some very steep hillside through thick bush. This was different from the regenerating scrub they'd encountered at the paintball range: no spindly but hopeful manuka trees, but rather a dense jungle of grasping vegetation which seemed to be reaching out to snag anything which came within reach. One of the cardinal rules of New Zealand hiking was 'Stay on the track', but Joss couldn't imagine how anyone could possibly stray off it. They paused for breath at a turn in the path as it zigzagged across the hillside. Further up the hill there was the sound of a car on the road and Joss had a glimpse of a dark blue SUV feeling its way down the slope towards the beach. Journalists? She had a pleasantly furtive sensation – a successful evasion of the enemy. John, hearing the same thing, evidently had the identical thought and shot her a quick grin. _Just like old times, huh?_

She took a quick swig from her water bottle. Once the car had gone there was no sound apart from distant waves down on the beach and the funny little squeaks uttered by some small birds chasing insects in the nearby bushes. They seemed completely at ease with people. Piri followed her glance. "Fantails," he said. "They're really common, though."

"I think they're kind of cute," said Joss. They were: plump, cheerful little birds with bright black eyes and grey-brown plumage. Smaller than sparrows, except for their long fanlike tails which flicked open and shut as they twisted through the air chasing their prey.

Piri shrugged and they continued up the track. After a few more minutes they emerged from the forest past a disused trampoline into the back yard of the Jones place.

It was neat and tidy with a sweep of lawn and a vegetable garden. Sweet corn, tomatoes and beans were obviously in full production; a large clump of something Joss identified uncertainly as maybe rhubarb in a shadier spot. Over to their right was a garage, white like the house. A utility truck was parked half in and half out, and Nui was pottering about loading ladders into the back. A lawnmower stood next to it, apparently waiting its turn.

Nui turned to greet them, eyebrows rising in surprise.

"They've come to stay," said Piri before his father could say anything. Nui's brows shot up even further at this.

"Oh really?" he said. Piri launched into an explanation of the events down at the beach house. By the time he had finished Nui was shaking his head in shocked disbelief. "That's terrible. I never heard of anything like that happening around here before. Jeez, John. Joss. It's..." his voice trailed away.

"It's all fine, Nui," soothed Joss. "No-one was hurt, and I'm sure the rental car company will be able to get us a new car before long." Another thing she needed to organise, she realised sadly.

Nui was still looking worried. "Well, maybe we should all just have a cuppa." He accompanied them over to the house. A plump black and white cat emerged from the back door to greet them, tail up.

Piri dumped Joss's bag inside the doorway. "Mum? Visitors!"

The kitchen was a long narrow room painted pale yellow with a big window looking out onto the back yard. As they filed in Lyn appeared through a door at the further end, seemingly part way though folding some laundry, to judge by the half-folded towel she was holding. Piri's explanation of the car fire left her as shocked as her husband. Sharon and Jerry crowded in after her, Mani grabbing her Dad's leg and peering shyly past him. Nui moved to turn on the electric jug for the promised tea.

They found themselves seated around a large table with mugs of tea and a plate of cookies. Mani had got over her shyness and decided to clamber onto John's lap. Joss tried to suppress her smile at his reaction: a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment.

"I heard you folks were headed home today," she said to Sharon.

"We are," she replied with a sigh. "Work tomorrow for both of us. We'll stay for lunch, but then we're off. Mani'll sleep in the car on the way home."

J _o_ hn's cell phone suddenly chirped. Grimacing an apology, he reached around Mani and dug it out to answer it. "Riley." A pause. "Yup. Uh-huh. You don't say? Well, thank you very much." He put the phone away again. "That was quick. Seems the police have found the guy who torched our car." He gave just the faintest wink, a mere shiver of an eyelid in her direction.

Joss was amused at the reaction of their friends. The worried, bad-dog slump was replaced by bright smiles. Total confidence in the police to catch the offender, knew they'd find him. Must have had a tip-off, it was so quick.

Once the cuppa had been consumed Nui stood up and stretched. "No rest for the wicked," he said. "Better get back to it. Work for me tomorrow, too."

The others were getting up from the table too. Piri collected the cups and took them over to the kitchen counter. Mani resisted moving from John's lap, putting her arms around his waist and pretending to cry before a sharp word from her father induced her to let go, snivelling for real this time. John's flummoxed expression really did make Joss giggle this time. He gave her a slightly rueful look, just as his cell phone rang again. This time he stepped into the next room to take the call. A few minutes later he came back in, forehead crinkling.

"Well," he said, sounding a little surprised. "That was the police victim support officer. Seems they've been fielding calls for the last couple of hours. People offering up the use of their cars, holiday homes, all sorts. He's going to decline most of it for us with thanks, but there's one offer you might be interested in. Would you like to stay in a haunted hotel?"

"Would I what?" she said, laughing. "That's a sentence you don't hear often."

"Yeah, I thought it sounded interesting. We're being offered two nights free accommodation and meals at a haunted hotel. The proprietor was horrified that our car got burned, thinks it's a really bad look for his country and wants to make things right. Plus I guess the free publicity won't hurt. What do you think?"

"I think it sounds...kinda fun, actually. Let's do it."

To be continued….


	19. Chapter 19

_A/N: again, big apologies for the long wait for another chapter. Boy oh boy was the Muse playing hard to get! But I think/hope I'm over the hump now – the next couple of chaps should be up a lot quicker. Somewhat belatedly, I don't own POI. If I did, it wouldn't have been cancelled. :-(_

"A haunted hotel? Cool!" Piri was intrigued.

"Yeah, but first we're going to have to arrange for a new car," said Joss.

"Shouldn't be a problem," replied Reese. They put in a call to the rental car company, who were predictably horrified. Reese was starting to get used to the tide of embarrassed exclamations. These people really weren't used to events involving fires and explosions – he supposed that was a good thing, on the whole, but he was starting to feel an odd nostalgia for the practised indifference of New Yorkers.

Joss offered to help Lyn with her towel folding, but was turned down. Nui had disappeared outside again and Piri looked like he was about to follow when his mother tossed him a bundle of dry clothes to fold. With an embarrassed glance in John's direction he sat down and started into the pile, but he didn't get far when his phone chimed. He cradled it in his neck as he kept folding, but something someone said made him visibly jump. He shot an awed look at Reese and spoke as quietly as he could into the phone, aided by the fact that Mani, recovered now from her earlier snivelling, was dancing around the room and threatening to kick over the neat stacks of folded laundry. Reese watched as Joss crouched down to talk to the little girl as she danced past in a flash of black hair and brown eyes. Mani spun on her toes and launched herself into Joss's surprised arms, giggling as she fell. "You wanna be careful when you do that, Mani," she said as she set the child back on her feet. "I might not be ready to catch you next time." Mani just giggled again and spun away, continuing to weave a path around the piles of laundry. Reese felt a sudden stab of, not pain exactly, but regret. He was perfectly well aware that having kids wasn't a bed of roses, but still…. _We're both alive_ , he told himself. _Alive and together. Count your blessings, John._

Piri had moved from his place on the sofa and was at Reese's elbow.

"Mr Riley," he said quietly. Reese tore his gaze away from Joss, still crouched and watching Mani's antics with a soft smile on her face. He cocked an eyebrow at Piri.

"One of my mates just phoned me," said the boy in a low voice. "Says Jared's gone to the cops and confessed to torching your car."

"Oh," said Reese, conveying mild surprise.

"I dunno what you guys did, but-"

"Us? What made you think it had anything to do with Joss and me? We're just here on vacation, Piri." He gave Piri a meaningful look.

"Huh." Piri sounded far from convinced, but when he saw he wasn't going to get anything else out of Reese he shrugged his shoulders and began picking up piles of washing to put away.

The Jones clan didn't seem disposed to interrupt their normal routine for their visitors. Joss and Lyn wandered through to the kitchen, chatting as they went. Reese could see them through the doorway, Joss propped against the kitchen counter talking animatedly to the other woman as Lyn measured ingredients into a breadmaker.

It was a pleasant little domestic scene, but Reese wondered what he was supposed to do with himself. He got his phone out, more out of habit than anything else. Mani, tired of her dancing, appeared at his elbow.

"Do you have games on that?" she asked.

"Uh, no, sorry Mani," he replied.

"Oh. Okay, can you watch me on the trampoline?"

"O-kay," he said slowly as she took his hand and prepared to tow him out the door. "Why do you need me to watch you, though?"

Mani rolled her eyes, every inch the sixteen-year-old. "'Cause I'm only allowed on the trampoline if there's a grown-up watching me," she said patiently. She pulled him past an amused Joss and out the back door into the sunshine of the back garden. There she scrambled up onto the trampoline unaided and began to bounce. "Wanna see me do a flip?" she asked, and then without waiting for an answer demonstrated, landing on her back. After a few minutes Reese found himself sweating slightly in the hot sun. He looked around and found a white plastic chair and brought it over to the trampoline and sat down in it. Mani was continuing to bounce energetically.

"You wonder where they get all that energy from, ay," came Nui's voice at his shoulder.

"Yes, that's exactly what I was thinking," Reese admitted.

"Lyn always used to say it was drained telepathically from the parents. Though in Mani's case it seems to be from every adult around her."

Reese gave an amused nod. "Yeah, I can see that," he murmured.

"Just so's you know, there was a knock on the front door just now. Couple of journalists looking for you. We played dumb and they went away again," said Nui.

"Oh. Thanks."

"So, you want to stay the night? Head off for Waitomo tomorrow? I'm sorry, we don't have a guest room, just a fold-down sofa in the living room." Nui looked a little embarrassed.

"Why, thanks for the offer, Nui. We'd be delighted." Well, possibly not delighted, exactly, but he simply couldn't turn down the invitation. "Umm… I was wondering if you could give us a lift into Whitianga tomorrow. We can pick up our replacement car from there."

"Yeah, sure," said Nui.

They were interrupted by Piri's arrival. "Mum says lunch is ready," he told them. Mani had stopped bouncing in favour of rolling around on the trampoline mat. With some difficulty they persuaded her that yes, she really did need to come in for lunch.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

Lunch proved to be pretty similar to the food they'd had for the cricket match they had watched on TV a few days ago: salads, bread and cold meats. They bowed their heads briefly while Nui said a short prayer in Maori, and then they began eating with gusto. Mani was in full show-off mode, ignoring the disapproving looks Piri kept giving her has she giggled and played with her food. Joss was amused to see John's reaction. He was like a child himself, simultaneously enchanted with and wary of the little girl. Mani was obviously desperate for his attention and used ever more inventive tricks to attract glances from him until the moment came when she threw a slice of cucumber at her idol. It missed, but she was instantly exiled to sit, legs dangling, on a spare chair on the other side of the room. Her grumpy snivelling put a damper on the rest of the meal. "Sorry, John," Sharon said apologetically. "She's about due for her afternoon sleep."

"Yeah, we'd better get the car packed up and get on the road," Jerry added. He picked up his plate and carried it to the kitchen sink. There was a scraping of chairs as the rest of the group rose. Joss rose with them to begin clearing the table.

Mani sneaked off her chair as soon as she thought no-one was looking. While her parents busied themselves with the transfer of their bags into their car, she made her way to John's side where he sat trying not to get in the way and leaned up against him. He looked down in surprise as the little girl slipped her thumb into her mouth and hooked her other arm around his elbow. Joss caught her breath at his expression. For a second she was transported back in time and thousands of miles away…

Harsh fluorescent lights. Fatigue, fear, the buff-coloured tiled walls of the city morgue. Swapping scar stories with John, a kind of whistling in the dark to distract themselves from the danger, their slim chances of getting out of this alive. Easily topping his Hamas surgeon tale with her landmine scar. But then the conversation taking an unexpected turn: her c-section. The sudden softness of his expression: a look of wonder, almost, at the everyday miracle of a child's birth. She saw the exact same look on his face now.

Sharon, mistaking him, laughed aloud. "Oh, don't mind her, John. She's always like this with people. Practically anywhere we go, she'll find someone and hook onto them and just won't let go."

She came over to disentangle Mani.

"No, it's fine," John started to say, but he was too late. The tired child was scooped up by her mother, starting another round of fussing. Joss saw his face settle back into his usual detached calm as he watched the mother bear her daughter off to be buckled into a car seat with her blankie and a teddy to cuddle on the drive home.

They stood out on the driveway to wave goodbye, then all turned back towards the house.

"Well, it's certainly going to be quieter around here without Mani," said Lyn.

"Oh, yeah," her husband agreed fervently. "I love the kid to bits, but every time she visits I feel grateful we don't have little ones any more."

The afternoon passed quietly. Joss became engrossed in the guide book, gathering intel on the next phase of their vacation. John occupied himself with his laptop. Another group of local journalists arrived at the door but were politely turned away. Joss went out in the garden with Lyn, helping to harvest some sweet corn for dinner that evening.

As they stretched themselves back in their chairs, replete with lamb chops, sweet corn and new potatoes, Piri suddenly said "I was looking up about that hotel on my phone today. It looks kinda scary."

"Really?" John seemed unconcerned.

"Yeah. They've had bath tubs dripping blood, and one guy killed himself in his room once."

"I'm not sure I believe in ghosts," John said unconcernedly.

"What about you, Ms Carter? Do you?"

"I'm not sure, Piri," said Joss. "I've never come across anything that made me think they were real."

"I dunno about ghosts," said Nui. "But I sometimes wonder if a place can kind of take on a… a _flavour_ , if something really bad's happened there. Like, I was talking to this guy once, he'd visited Auschwitz as a tourist. He said that he was walking down this little flight of stairs leading into one of the gas chambers there, and he could've sworn there were people jostling in behind him. No one there, of course, and maybe he was just imagining it. Oh, and he said there was a funny smell too. Kind of acrid, burning in the back of his nose."

"There was a kehua – that's a Maori ghost – in our house when I was a kid," said Lyn.

"Really?" Piri was intrigued. "What happened?"

"Well, there was a funny shadow at the end of the hall, right by the door to my room," said Lyn. "I was about six, couldn't bear to go past it at bed time. So I told Mum and she and Dad got the priest in. Blessed the house, said some karakia. No more kehua."

"Oh." Piri seemed quite disappointed when Lyn added, "Looking back, I think it was probably just the shadow of a potted plant, but I'm glad they took me seriously."

After they had cleared the table Nui got out a deck of cards. "Game of Five Hundred?" he asked.

"What's that?" John asked.

"Card game, but you need four people for it so we only play it when we've got visitors. Kind of like bridge, but less poncy," he replied.

"I think my husband means, less like what little old ladies play," said Lyn, smiling.

It seemed impolite to refuse, so Piri sat out and advised on the play.

"You've never played this?" asked Nui.

"Nope," said Joss, scooping up a trick.

"I heard this game started out American. Marines brought it over during the Second World War, but then it died out in the States. Still played quite a bit here, though."

"Like bumble bees," said Piri.

"What?" his father cocked an amused eyebrow at the non sequitur.

"Yeah, bumble bees. Mr O'Leary mentioned it in biology last year. They imported bumble bees from England to pollinate the clover in the pastures because there were no native bees that could do it. Now bumble bees are dying out over there, and we're sending colonies and queens and stuff back to save them. Weird."

"Yeah, weird that you were listening in school for once," said Nui, softening the comment with a grin.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

Late that night Reese lay awake. A sofa bed in the Jones' living room was a far cry from the comforts of the beach house, especially since there was a cross piece under the fold-out mattress which was aligned perfectly with his kidneys. He shifted uncomfortably, aware that Joss was awake too. Another disadvantage of being in someone else's living room. All that alluring, gorgeous woman six inches away from him, and he didn't quite dare…

Bloody bathtubs or not, he was looking forward to their hotel experience...


	20. Chapter 20

Reese woke in the grey of early dawn to find a weight on his feet. He squinted down the length of the bed to see the black and white cat had taken up residence. As he stirred the cat stretched and turned golden eyes on him. Then it got to its feet and paced deliberately up his body to nose him under his chin, purring. It settled into the gap between him and Joss, forcing them apart slightly, and seemed to fall asleep again, still purring. He dozed off and woke when it was full daylight. Joss was peering at the cat, blinking herself awake. "Never thought a cat would come between us," she said blearily.

They got up and dressed: no lingering in bed when you were parked in someone's living room, blocking everyone else's access to the kitchen and dining room. The cat sat on the sofa bed regarding them thoughtfully until they chased it off so they could remove the sheets.

As they were finishing this chore there was a tap at the door. Lyn was there in a robe. She enquired after their night's sleep and headed through to the kitchen. As the rest of the family arrived, Reese and Joss came through too.

"Choice of porridge or Weet-bix for those who want cereal," said Lyn. She was setting out plates, glasses and silverware as she spoke.

"Who eats porridge in the middle of summer?" asked Piri grumpily, running a hand through touseled hair.

"I do, smart boy," said his father as he ladled some into a bowl. "Remember, I'm working today. Need my porridge, it sticks to the ribs."

"It's your Scottish grandfather coming through," said Lyn.

"Yeah, maybe..." Nui busied himself with his breakfast.

Reese didn't feel like cereal, so he began plastering butter on a slice of toast. The table was well supplied with spreads: jam, honey, marmalade. There was a yellow-lidded jar with some strange dark brown substance which he sniffed at cautiously. Salty, yeasty…?

"That's Vegemite," said Piri, slathering his own toast with butter. "I bet you won't have seen it before."

"No," agreed Reese. "Uhh… what do you do with it?" He eyed it doubtfully.

"You put it on your toast," said Piri. He demonstrated. "Not too much, though - it's pretty salty."

Smearing something which looked a lot like axle grease on your breakfast seemed like a bad idea, but when in Rome… Reese followed Piri's lead, and bit cautiously into the result. It tasted… strange. Salty, savoury. Not completely unpleasant, but… maybe an acquired taste…

Joss, meanwhile, was experimenting with Weet-bix. These were small rectangular slabs of some kind of compressed shredded wheat, kind of like Mini-Wheats but bigger and without the frosting. They were eaten with milk and whatever else the eater wanted. Joss was having hers with a handful of fresh raspberries from the garden. She seemed to be enjoying the result.

They finished their breakfast with coffee. Lyn refused all offers of help in cleaning up, and since Nui needed to get away they transferred their bags into the back of his utility truck and were soon on their way into Whitianga to pick up their replacement rental car.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

Reese offered to let Joss drive, but she declined, and so he was once again piloting the car over the humpy spine of the Coromandel Peninsula and down onto the plains beyond. This time, though, instead of following the line of the hills roughly south, they turned their backs on the steep ranges and headed nearly due west across the flat plains. The late morning found them in Hamilton, the biggest city in the region – which didn't mean especially big. Joss was consulting the guide book.

"'Hamilton has a reputation for being boring, and it's true that the city is mainly a service town for the dairying region surrounding it,'" she read. "'But it does boast a couple of stellar attractions, including world-class gardens and a small but perfectly-formed museum.' What do you think? Stop here for a few hours, or keep going?"

Reese rolled his shoulders as he drove. "I could do with a break. Since you never seem to want to drive."

She poked out her tongue in response to this. "Tell you what. The museum's at the south end of the main street, and so are a lot of restaurants. What say we take a look at the museum and have lunch, then push on? We can do the gardens on the way back."

He nodded agreement as they arrived in town, crossing a bridge over a large, slow-flowing river which wound between high banks covered with trees. Wild nasturtiums grew in the sunny spots, the orange of the flowers bright against the fresh green of their foliage. A couple of people in kayaks were out on the river. They slowed and joined the traffic flow, such as it was. The museum was on the banks of the river, set slightly back from the road and with an inexplicable piece of public art outside – a mobile home made of bricks.

The museum was free, but requested a donation which they happily supplied. In return they got an information leaflet about some of the most important exhibits. Principal among these was a massive Maori war canoe, a waka taua, named "Te Winika" and housed a a special gallery looking out over the river. They paced along the length of it – fully sixty feet. The keel was formed from a single trunk of a massive tree, with extra freeboard added by lashing heavily carved planks to the top edges of the keel. A great up-thrust stern-post towered above them, also adorned with the intricate spirals and curves so beloved of Maori craftsmen. All the way along the waka's length small tufts of white feathers were placed on the sides every foot or so, and the front, lower than the stern, was another riot of carving. A drawing by an early European artist showed the waka in action: packed with paddlers, a chief clad in a feather cloak and holding his taiaha, or long club, standing amidships.

It was only as they turned away from the canoe that they became fully conscious of the carvings on the wall of the gallery.

"You have got to be kidding me," said Joss, eyeing the exaggerated, um, masculinity of the carved figures. "They have this on public display?"

Reese shrugged. "What do you expect, fig leaves?"

"Well, no, but I bet they get school trips and such through here..."

"Diff'rent strokes for diff'rent folks, I guess."

"I could make an incredibly crude joke here, you know. Just sayin'."

He smirked at her. "Why Joss. I never thought you had it in you."

"Oh, God, John. Another one. C'mon, we gotta get out of here."

They escaped the temptations of yet more double entendres by fleeing the museum for the restaurants and cafes. Sitting back and nursing their coffees after lunch, they watched the people go by. Mothers pushing small children in buggies, workers from local offices with briefcases and laptops. Reese eyed an elderly couple walking by hand in hand. Would he and Joss ever make it that far? How had those two done it? He sighed a little to himself. If he was honest, he spent most of his time trying not to think about the future. _Sooner or later we'll probably both wind up dead…_ Actually there was nothing more proverbially certain apart from taxes, which he was pretty sure Finch didn't pay. But he found himself suddenly hoping it would be later rather than sooner. It had been such a hell of a long time since he'd had anything to stick around for particularly. It was, what, eighteen months since he had found Joss again? And before that, teaming up with Finch, saving the Numbers… _you need a purpose…_ but had it ever been anything more than something to do while he waited for death?

Joss was eyeing him with concern. "Ready to go, John?" she asked quietly. He shook himself and twitched a quick smile at her.

"Sure, Joss. Let's get going."

POI*POI*POI*POI*

From Hamilton their route turned south through at first rolling and then gradually hillier country. The dairy cattle in the fields gradually gave way to sheep as the hills got steeper. They rounded a curve and then descended a long slope into another little town with a wide main street and awnings covering the sidewalks: Otorohanga.

"Hey. This is the place with the kiwi house, John."

He had been largely silent since leaving Hamilton. Joss hoped he hadn't fallen into one of his moods.

"What's a kiwi house?" he asked, sounding not terribly interested.

"It's where you can see kiwi birds. Since they're nocturnal they have these places where they leave the lights on overnight and dim them during the day so the birds think it's night time and come out."

"Huh," he grunted.

"You'd rather push on, wouldn't you," she sighed.

"Well… yeah." He seemed about to say something, but instead shifted his attention back to his driving. They lapsed into silence again as the road stretched in front of them.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

It wasn't much further to Waitomo, the site of glow worm caves and the most haunted hotel in the country. The hotel itself was a pretty building, set up a slope with gardens stretching down to the road. It was old, at least as far as this young country was concerned: Victorian, built of whitewashed brick with sliding sash windows and steps leading up to a deep porch. John was getting their bags out of the car while Joss got them checked in. The manager, a dark-haired young woman, came out of her office to usher them in personally. "I was so horrified when I heard about your car," she said as she led them down a corridor. "I just had to do something to make sure you didn't think we were all horrible people."

"Thank you," said Joss. "We're really looking forward to our stay."

"Oh, don't mention it – it's really the least we can do. Dinner in the hotel dining room is included in your stay. We start serving at six thirty."

"Um, I was just wondering – how haunted is this place really?"

They stopped in front of one of the rooms as the woman unlocked it and gestured them in. "Well, this place was built in 1908, but it appears it was constructed on the site of a fort used by the British during the Land Wars. The story goes that the daughter of one of the chiefs on the Maori side fell in love with a British soldier. One night she was on her way up here to see her lover when she was mistaken for a man and shot dead by a sentry."

"So what does she do?" asked Joss.

"Mostly she roams the corridors of this wing of the hotel. Some people say they hear her moaning. But during the 1930's a young man had some kind of close encounter with her – he told several people he'd felt her moving through him. The next night the poor guy committed suicide in his room."

"Oh." Joss wasn't at all sure she liked the way this story went.

"The other wing of the hotel, the Art Deco wing, seems to have attracted its own share of ghosts," continued the woman. "There's a former staff member, a kind of matron type. And there's a boy who died in the hotel when he had a large can of boiling water knocked over him in the kitchen. He seems to be mainly attracted to children staying here – they sometimes complain that a weird kid is following them."

"You know, you're not really making us feel comfortable here," murmured John as he put the bags onto their shelf.

The manager shot a smile at him. "If it's any consolation, I've been working here for over a year and I haven't seen anything out of the ordinary. Well, except maybe a kind of funny atmosphere in Room 25. And sometimes the dining room seems cold, but apart from that..." She shrugged. "Anyway, I'll leave you two to it. Please do let me know if you need anything." With another smile, she left.

There was a little silence in the pleasant room after the manager had gone.

John broke it. "Okay. So what should we do now?" he asked. Joss smiled to herself. Whatever mood he had been in, he'd plainly shaken it off, if that faux-innocent look on his face was anything to go by.

"Well, we could try some of those diff'rent strokes you were talking about at the museum," she murmured, moving into his arms.

He nuzzled her hair. "You sure? Only if you insist..."

"Oh, I think I do," she sighed. It was a long time till six thirty, after all…

A/N: The Waitomo Caves Hotel is real – and apparently haunted much as described…. But ghosts don't really come out till night time, right? To be continued….


	21. Chapter 21

**So, here you go Chellero! Thanks for all your wonderful support!**

Their meal in the dining room – which didn't seem at all cold – was just fine. They lingered at the bar having a few drinks, chatted to a young German couple comparing notes on travel in New Zealand. Took a stroll in the hotel's gardens as the sun disappeared behind the hills. Checked emails – some photos from Taylor, enjoying the skiing in Aspen. "And I give your selfie my 'seal' of approval!' he wrote. A brief communique from Finch wishing them a Happy New Year. Slightly belated: they wondered together what might have been going on in New York. Then they showered and went to bed.

Joss lay awake for a long time. She was starting to wonder whether staying in a haunted hotel was such a great idea after all. The room was nice enough, but now she _did_ feel cold. She snuggled in closer to John. He moved fractionally, sighing into her hair. Were ghosts real or not? She could see how every little night noise could suggest something creepy to a mind already primed with lurid stories. Her mother would have had an emphatic answer – no, no ghosts. Mostly hoaxes or over-active imaginations, but the occasional genuine spirit – just not that of a deceased human.

The room seemed to be getting colder. She pulled the covers up higher, leaving just her nose and mouth poking out for air. John muttered a little and moved again; a frigid draught came down the gap between them. She readjusted the bed covers yet again. After a while she began to doze.

She was standing at a graveside. There was a coffin in the grave, flowers on top of it. _Taylor!_ She threw in a handful of soil, then found herself turning away. Another open grave loomed at her feet. Another casket. Who…? _Oh, no. Not John. Not him too._ There was more dirt in her hand, and she threw it on top. And there was another grave. Mom. More soil. More graves, one after another. Fusco. Finch. Shaw. It was like a roll call of everyone she cared about, grave after grave. It was bitterly cold, and the sky was leaden, threatening snow. And she stumbled from grave to grave, the grief and despair filling her heart as she realised that _everyone,_ every single person she loved had been ripped from her-

Her eyes snapped open. The cold was still there, an unreasonable, unseasonable cold. She was shaking from the cold, and with fear. All those deaths, all those losses. She considered herself a reasonably brave person, on the rare occasions she thought about it. But that dream, this horrible cold, the fear and despair which seemed to be seeping from the very walls made her terrified to close her eyes again. _You don't want to be asleep when IT comes close, touches you..._ the thought came unbidden.

She took a deep breath. _W_ _here_ _in_ _hell did_ _ **that**_ _come from?_

 _Or maybe that should be, where in Hell did that come from?_

The icy cold seemed to reach for her.

She took a deep, panicked breath. Her Mom had been pretty clear on the only thing that helped in a situation like this. And so Jocelyn Carter, NYPD detective, former Army interrogator, mother, general badass and "whatever-this-is" to a group of vigilantes, cried out for help to the God she only half believed in.

Nothing happened.

The room was still cold.

John was warm against her back, though, and still seemed solidly asleep. Really, the way that man seemed to be able to turn sleep on and off was a perpetual wonder to her, though probably the knack was hard-earned, the result of years of military service, and what had come after.

She didn't notice herself falling asleep. No dreams, this time.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

Reese turned over in bed and breathed deep, his breath misting as he exhaled.

"Kara." She was standing in front of him, on the beach at Otama, wavering like smoke but quite clearly there.

"Miss me?" she smiled.

He tried to find words, but they wouldn't come.

"Oh, come on, John," she said, the smile sharpening. "You didn't think you could get rid of me that easily, did you? One stroll on a beach?" She leaned toward him. One cold hand reached out to brush his cheek, and he tried to back away. Frozen to the spot. Her form seemed to darken. Solidify. Not smoke now, more like water.

"You're dead," he told her firmly.

The maddening smile broadened and became a laugh. "Oh, John," she sighed once her laughter subsided. "How can I be dead? I'm part of you."

He took a deep breath. "No, you're not."

Her expression became indulgent. "You like to tell yourself that, don't you. You keep pretending to be the boy scout. But you'll always be the killer."

The ripples in her form were smoothing out. Almost solid…

He grasped on to the toki on its braid around his neck. Warm, smooth, hard stone. Real. _More real th_ _a_ _n you…_ He glared at Kara, reached inside himself for, for something - for that thing which connected him to Joss, to Finch, to Fusco, to the Numbers, and he held on to it as he threw the words at her. "No. Once I was a killer. But I'm not any more. I don't kill people, I help them. And you're dead, and I'm alive. You're a fake, but what I do now is real."

Kara's eyes flashed angrily. "Like I said, you can tell yourself that if you think it helps-" But her outlines were wavering again. He took courage.

"It's not just me telling myself, Kara. I'm not all alone any more. And I'll believe my friends over you any day." He made a huge effort and forced his legs into motion. Still holding the toki like an amulet he performed a perfect about face and marched away from her.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

There was sunshine coming through the window when they woke the next morning. Joss rolled over in bed to snuggle at John's side.

"Huh," she said in surprise as her cheek encountered the toki lying against his chest. "Thought you usually took that off at night."

He frowned slightly. "I do." He seemed about to say something else, but then stopped. "That's weird." He was looking over her shoulder at the window, lit up with the early morning light. "What's that on the window?"

She craned around to follow his gaze. "It looks like..." her voice died away on the word "frost". But even as they watched the warm morning sun was melting the frost flowers away.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

They had breakfast in the dining room and decided not to take advantage of the late checkout. But just down the road were the Waitomo Caves, and so they loaded up the car again and headed down there. They signed up for the full Caves experience which included an underground boat ride, but having just missed a tour it would be an hour and a half before the next one. Joss's guide book advised them to walk a couple of hundred yards down the road to a little nature reserve for the Ruakuri bushwalk. "Ruakuri", it seemed, meant "two dogs", named for the moment when two dogs had emerged from the forest, surprising a Maori hunting party centuries ago. There was a serious absence of dogs this morning, though. In fact, a serious absence of anyone much. This midweek morning they had the place to themselves.

The track followed a small stream along a steep gully. Apparently the stream had once been at the heart of its own cave system, until the forces of erosion had caused the roof to collapse. But there were still natural tunnels, and fascinating little cavelets and cracks in the rocks. One remnant of a cave still had weathered stalagmites rising from its floor. At another place, a sturdy wooden rail prevented the walkers from falling into a cauldron of foaming white water as the stream tumbled over a rock ledge into a pool twenty feet below. The fantails were everywhere, chasing insects and uttering their strange, squeaky little twitters, pausing on tree branches to fix the visitors with beady black eyes before hopping back into the air with a flick of their fanned tails. A much noisier, melodic call came though the trees, and Joss looked around, craning her neck. Finally she located the caller, a handsome bird with iridescent black plumage and a single white feather at its throat: a tui.

They ambled along the track, hand in hand at the wider parts, and finally emerged from the cool of the forest into the baking hot gravelled parking lot. Time to head back to the main cave entrance for their tour.

They joined a group of about a dozen other tourists, all shuffling down a gently sloping tunnel into the first chamber of the cave system. Creamy-yellow limestone walls met high overhead, spotlights mounted here and there casting strange shadows from the convoluted shapes which rose from the floor, hung from the ceilings, jutted out from the wall. The guide told of the formation of the caves as streams eroded the limestone laid down by billions of shellfish over millions of years. Their discovery by Maori, and then their commercial exploitation by Europeans, and finally their return to their tribal owners. The famous opera singer who had given a performance in the perfect acoustics of the cave. The vandal attack a few years prior, in which paint had been thrown all over the delicate walls. No sign of it could be seen now, although the guide warned them: "Please don't touch the stone. There's still water seeping across it, forming new deposits. If you leave behind a tiny smear of your skin's natural oil, it blocks that seepage and the formation stops growing." Joss, who had just done exactly that, gave a guilty jump. John noticed, and gave her an amused smirk which said _I know_ _exactly_ _what you've been up to…_

They walked further into the caves. Another high chamber, a passageway and several sets of stairs heading down deep underground now. Despite the lighting there was a chill in the air. Joss tried not to think of their stay in the hotel. At last they arrived in a final chamber. There was running water in front of them – a wide, steadily-flowing dark stream. They filed onto a boat moored at the edge and the guide pushed them out into the current. A few moments later they had left the lit portion of the cave behind and were drifting in the blackness down the river. But not complete darkness. Joss leaned back against John and they both gazed up at the cave ceiling. Because it wasn't a cave ceiling. It was a sky lit with the most amazing display of stars the human eye had ever seen. Tiny blue-green dots covered every chink and cranny in the cave roof, glowing steadily.

The glow-worms, the guide explained, were the larvae of a type of gnat. They let down silken threads to catch insects attracted by their glow. They could live like this for up to six months before pupating and then emerging as adults whose only function was to live a few days and mate. Joss mostly let the explanation flow over her. The guide fell silent as the boat bumped against a post set in the middle of the cavern. He dropped a loop of rope over it, temporarily halting the boat in midstream, and everyone sat silent, drinking in the wonder of a whole galaxy of stars, spread across the roof of the cave.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

Later, in the sunlight, they wandered back towards the Ruakuri track. It was early afternoon now, getting into the heat of the day. Cicadas called from the forested hills around them, billions of them, filling the air with a continuous rustle and whirr. Birds chirped as they approached the trees.

"So, how did you sleep last night?" Joss asked at last.

John seemed to hesitate. "Slept just fine. Had a strange dream though."

She was silent for a moment.

"How about you?" he asked at last.

"Mm. Funny dream, too." She paused a long time before adding in a rush, "It was so cold. And I dreamed everyone died. Taylor, you, Mom, even Finch and Fusco. It was like everyone left me, I was all alone..."

"Hey." He noticed the tears starting to form in her eyes, pulled her around facing him. "Jocelyn Carter, if there's one thing you aren't, it's all alone. Remember? No matter what..." His blue eyes bored into her. "No matter what," he repeated.

She gazed back helplessly, then lifted one hand to wipe her eyes. "Thank you," she whispered.

They resumed their walk, finally reaching the cool shade under the trees.

"So? What about your dream?" she asked.

There was another long silence. "Kara," he said.

Joss sighed to herself. Kara's unwanted presence again. When would she ever let John go? She put her arm around his waist and pulled him into her hip.

"I got away from her, though," he added unexpectedly. "It was like..." his voice died away. He cleared his throat and tried again. "It was like there was something in me, something tying me to you, and Finch and the Numbers… I remember grabbing the toki around my neck and holding on to it and walking away from her."

"Huh." She wasn't sure how to respond to this.

"Thing is, I swear I took it off when we went to bed last night. But it was around my neck this morning."

"Hm." They walked on further, listening to the sound of the stream and the cicadas and the birdsong. "You know, John – maybe you're not alone either," said Joss softly.

"Yeah." His hand tightened on hers. She glanced up to see him smiling, just a little.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

Their car was baking hot by the time they got back to it. They stood with the doors open, waiting for the heat to dissipate before risking contact with the upholstery.

"Hey, Carter," said John. " You wanted to see a kiwi bird, right?"

"Yeah, I did."

"Well, let's go do it on the way back."

The light of exploration was back in his eyes. She grinned at him. "Yeah. Let's."

To be continued….


	22. Chapter 22

**Thanks for all the great feedback! Despite the fact that it's now after Easter and the days are getting shorter here in New Zealand, John and Joss are continuing to enjoy the height of summer as their vacation continues. And no, nothing much is happening… you can go read all the other great fan fiction for action – this story is about them recharging their batteries, since there's definitely something brewing for them when I eventually get them back to New York. But in the mean time, just relax and enjoy….**

It was only about a twenty-minute drive back up the road to Otorohanga and its kiwi house. The small town was evidently very proud of its kiwi connection – images of the birds were everywhere, including a huge sculpture of one made out of the corrugated iron usually reserved for roofing.

When they pulled up in the parking lot outside the kiwi house there were only half a dozen vehicles there. A quiet day, which they were totally fine with.

The kiwi house was not just a building with kiwi in it, they discovered. Instead it was part of a much larger complex with outdoor aviaries and recreated habitat for a large number of bird species. In the entrance lobby there was even a display of huge, horrifying insects known as wetas. The information panel next to the vivarium where the creatures lived assured visitors that despite looking vicious, they were completely harmless and related to grasshoppers. Joss shuddered. Okay, so the long spiky thing at the weta's rear was an ovipositor, not a stinger. But the insect was damn near as long as her hand and she could only be grateful that they hadn't come here yesterday after all. God alone knew what her dreams would have been like last night with _this_ mental image to use…

John was paying for their tickets, and they walked through to the next section of the display before reaching the living things outside. This section was all about the kiwi, and she ran an eye over the explanations of kiwi conservation. Her attention was arrested by one image, though: an x-ray of a female kiwi with her egg still on board.

"Oh. My. God," she breathed. John was looking at her with a definite smirk. The egg was huge. It was practically as big as the poor mother, taking up most of her body cavity. Remembering what late pregnancy and labour felt like, Joss had nothing but sympathy for the bird. For a mother kiwi, laying an egg must be… quite an experience.

"Someone told me once," murmured John, looking at the picture and avoiding her eye, "that giving birth was like shitting a watermelon. I think that kiwi might agree."

Shaking her head in pained sympathy, Joss moved on.

They emerged from the entrance building into park-like surroundings: gravelled paths led off through stands of trees. Dotted among the trees were aviaries which were home to a variety of bird species. They passed displays of the blue duck (endangered), red-crowned parakeet (endangered), North Island Kaka, a big, handsome red-brown parrot (endangered), the South Island Kea, similar to the kaka but green (vulnerable) and the blue wattled crow or kokako, which was a lot nicer than the English name sounded. And was endangered. In fact, as they wandered further, Joss began to wonder whether there were any New Zealand birds which _weren't_ endangered. She said as much to John. He shrugged his shoulders. "I guess all that farmland came at a cost, Joss."

They reached a huge walk-in aviary shaped like a geodesic dome and passed through the double entrance doors. Inside, the trees towered towards the netting high above. A tui called from somewhere up there, and there was a clatter of wings as a huge, fat, white-breasted wood pigeon (vulnerable) swooped across the path just in front of them.

As they made their way along the curving path, they heard someone speaking. A blonde woman in a green shirt with the Kiwi House logo on it, one of the volunteers they had seen working among the enclosures, was telling a story to a group of children. They stopped to listen.

"Tane-Mahuta, the god of the forest, was walking among his children the trees one day, when he noticed some of them were looking sickly," began the woman. "When he looked closer he saw that they were being eaten by millions upon millions of bugs and insects. Tane realised that if nothing was done quickly, all his trees would die. So he called his other children, the birds, to him and explained that one of them would need to go down onto the forest floor to eat the bugs.

"'Hey, you! Tui! You with the lovely song! Will you go down onto the forest floor to eat the bugs?' asked Tane.

"'No, not me, Tane! It's dark down there, and I'm frightened,' said the Tui.

"'Pukeko! You with the beautiful blue plumage and the red beak! Will you go down to the forest floor to eat the bugs?'

"'Oh, no, Tane. It's damp down there and my feet will get wet,' said the Pukeko.

"'Pipiwharauroa! Shining Cuckoo, flitting in the sunlight! Will you go down to eat the bugs?'

"'No, no, Tane! I'm way too busy right now, building my nest!' said the Shining Cuckoo.

"All the birds were silent. At last, Kiwi spoke up. 'I will go down and eat the bugs, Tane,' he said.

"'Kiwi, you realise that you will be poking and digging for bugs and grubs among the forest litter, so you will need a great long beak and thick strong legs?' asked Tane.

"'Yes, I realise, Tane. But I will still go,' said Kiwi.

"'And you know that you will be going down into the shadows, so you won't need your bright plumage any more?'

"'Yes, Tane. But I will still go,' said the Kiwi.

"'And worst of all, Kiwi – you won't need your wings any more. You will become flightless.'

"Kiwi thought long and hard. 'I am sad about that, Tane. But I will still go down there,' he said at last.

"And so Tane changed Kiwi so he had a great, long beak and thick strong legs. He took away his wings and gave him shaggy brown feathers to keep him warm in the cold shadows. And Kiwi went down onto the forest floor and to this day he keeps the forest healthy by eating the insects and bugs.

"But Tane was not finished. He called out to the other birds again. 'You! Tui! Because you were too afraid to go down onto the forest floor, you will forever wear a white feather at your throat, to remind everyone of your cowardice. Pukeko! You didn't want to get your feet damp, so from now on you will live in the swamps. And Shining Cuckoo, you were too busy with your nest. From this day forward you will never build another nest, and your chicks will be hatched by others. But because Kiwi was prepared to make this sacrifice, he will always be the most honoured of birds, and his feathers will adorn the cloaks of chiefs.'"

The story over, the storyteller stood up and got out a roll of stickers, offering one to each of the children. When she saw Joss and John, she grinned and held one out to Joss. "I saw you listening in! Would you like one too?"

Joss declined with a chuckle. "You're good at that, though," she told the woman.

"Oh, thanks. It's all part of the education programme here. Normally I teach preschool kids, so it's nice to have a change of pace and work with the older ones in the school holidays."

"Does the Kiwi House do a lot of education work?"

"Yes, some. The storytelling was kind of my idea, though." The woman paused as her eyes roamed around the aviary, taking the the trees and birdsong. "The way I see it, we have to get these kids valuing this. Best guess is, there were a million kiwi in New Zealand before European settlement. Now we're down to seventy thousand, and declining. It'll be bloody embarrassing if our national emblem goes extinct on our watch."

"Yeah, we kind of noticed the number of endangered birds you have here," said Joss.

"That's partly because before people turned up there was practically nothing that lived in New Zealand _except_ birds. But humans have had a pretty big impact. The Maori brought in Polynesian rats, and hunted the moa to extinction. Then Pakeha – Europeans – turned up, and we brought in Norway rats, and cats, and stoats, and possums, all of which prey on the birds or their eggs and chicks. We cleared vast amounts of forest for farmland – and the results you see. Unless we can turn things around, those kids may be the last ones to see some of these birds except in zoos."

A family group came in through the aviary door as she finished. She gave Joss and John a nod and called out with a smile, "Hi guys! Anyone want a story?"

Their last stop was the nocturnal house. There were signs outside asking visitors to be quiet so as not to disturb the shy birds, and so Joss found herself tiptoeing in. A sound system played the sounds of the night on a continuous loop: crickets, the call of an owl. There was just enough light to see across to the far wall. A huge sheet of glass separated them from the kiwis' enclosure, and they stopped next to it. Nothing seemed to be moving amongst the ferns and bushes of the simulated forest floor. Suddenly an owl swooped across from one tree branch to another, then all was still again.

At last there was movement. The kiwi was smaller than Joss expected: smaller than a chicken. It moved erratically, poking and probing with its beak as it walked slowly down the slight slope from the back of the enclosure to pace along right in front of the window. It made its way to what was apparently a feeding station placed in one corner, and began to peck something out of the bowl. The owl fluttered down again from its post high up near the back. Then as they watched the kiwi finished its meal and retraced its steps, continuing to poke at the ground as it went. It disappeared among the bushes, apparently going back into its nesting box.

They moved along the pathway and came to the video feed which told them what was going on in the kiwi's nest. The bird had hunkered down over two large eggs. The information card told them that this bird was called Jake, a male North Island Brown Kiwi, and being a fellow, he was now tasked with incubating and raising the chicks. Joss was rather relieved that having laid one of those enormous eggs – _and then grown a_ _nd_ _laid a second one!_ – the mother kiwi was relieved of all further child-raising responsibilities.

But a video shot with night-vision showed the futile struggle of a kiwi father trying to fight off a marauding stoat. In the wild, a kiwi chick stood only a 25 percent chance of living to adulthood.

Emerging out into the sunshine again, they made their way to the exit. Sobered by the video, Joss dropped a few notes into a box collecting funds for wildlife conservation. Then they were out in the parking lot again, standing by their car with the doors open, waiting yet again for the heat to dissipate.

"Where to now, Joss?" asked John.

"Well, it's only an hour back to Hamilton. There are still those gardens."

"Hm. It's three o'clock now, so it'll be about four when we hit town. We could stay the night there and head back to Otama tomorrow."

"Sounds great. How about we grab some stuff from a supermarket for a picnic? The guidebook says the gardens are a great place for eating al fresco."

"'A loaf of bread, a jug of wine and thee'," he quoted, getting into the car.

"Poetry? From you?" Joss rolled her eyes. "Time to go home to New York. This vacation thing's starting to get to you."

John merely smiled as he pulled the car out onto the road.

To be continued...


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: Sorry about another long delay in posting. Real Life has been jumping up and down on my head for the last week or so, plus this chapter ended up much longer than usual. So hopefully that makes up for the delay a bit! Hope you all enjoy – please review if you liked it!**

It was pretty much a straight shot through to Hamilton. They found a motel a short stroll from the gardens, though a supermarket was a slightly more difficult trick. The motelier was helpful, though, and after a while they had everything they needed: bread, salads, a selection of cold meats, disposable plates and cups, even the bottle of wine. "Hope they don't have laws against drinking in public places," Joss said anxiously.

"You worry too much, Carter," said Reese. She snorted in reply.

The heat outside seemed to be increasing, even though the sun was starting its journey towards the western horizon. The parking lot at the gardens was pretty full, but by parking at the far end they were able to find some shade for once. Well worth the extra hundred yard walk back to the car, thought Reese. You could burn your butt on the black upholstery if you weren't careful.

In view of the heat, they decided to find a spot and have their picnic before exploring the gardens. There was a small lake or large pond with ducks near the parking lot: a gravelled path led around it towards some inviting trees on the other side. They set off, carrying their shopping with them.

A family group was approaching them along the wide path: a mother, father and a small child walking along with her hand in her dad's. Suddenly the child let go. "Mister Riley! Mister Riiilllleeeeyyy!" She came charging towards him like a small missile.

Something in his back brain recognised the voice before his conscious mind did, and Reese found himself dropping into a crouch to receive the child. Mani hurled herself at his chest, throwing her arms around his neck. The soft flesh of the underside of her arm brushed his cheek, and in an instant he was undone. He found his arms tightening around her and he returned the kiss she planted on his nose, his lips brushing her forehead. Her hair smelled of baby shampoo. There was a sudden overwhelming ache in his chest, and he blinked frantically to clear the tears from his eyes as Jerry and Sharon strolled up. He was vaguely aware of Joss exchanging greetings as he fought to maintain his composure. At last he stood up, Mani still clamped firmly around his neck. He shot a slightly embarrassed smile at Sharon. "Well, that was quite a greeting," she said, smiling in return. "Come on, Mani. You'll wreck Mr Riley's neck, dangling there like that." Gently she prised the little girl off Reese.

Jerry raised his eyebrows in greeting. "Small world, eh?"

"Yeah. It sure is," he agreed, happy to slip into a stream of small talk. "We're just passing through town on the way back from Waitomo."

"Oh, yeah, the haunted hotel there. So did you see any ghosts?" Sharon asked with interest.

"No, nothing that went bump in the night," said Joss. Whatever it was that had gone on there was not for public distribution, she seemed to feel.

"The caves were amazing, though," said Reese, falling in with her. "And we stopped off at the Kiwi House this afternoon. We'll spend the might here, so we thought we'd check out the gardens before we headed back to Otama."

"You having a picnic?" asked Jerry, with a nod towards their shopping bags.

"That was the idea," said Joss. "It's too hot to eat indoors."

"Great minds think alike," said Sharon, ignoring the mutter of "Fools seldom differ," from her husband. "We have some stuff in the car – would you like to share our picnic rug?"

They found a spot in some shade overlooking the lake. Several curious ducks wandered over, to be shooed away by Jerry. Mani sat on her Dad's lap shooting curious glances at Joss and Reese as they tucked into supermarket salads with plastic spoons.

Once they had finished the adults sat back, watching the ducks on the lake and enjoying the sunshine. Mani had other ideas, though.

"Mister Riley, there's turtles. Let's go see the turtles." She was up on her feet again, dancing up and down on her toes. Reese wondered anew where she got her energy from.

"Turtles?" he said doubtfully. He shot a glance at Jerry and Sharon, who were looking amused.

"Yep, there's turtles here," said Jerry. "Always a highlight of one of our visits to the gardens, gotta see the turtles." He winked at Reese. "Go on, Mani, you take Mr Riley to see them. We'll just sit here and chat."

Mani grabbed Reese's hand and tried to pull him to his feet. He went along with the charade, pretending that it was the little girl's efforts which propelled him upwards, with appropriate groaning sound effects. They walked down the grassy slope towards the lake. Mani seemed to know exactly where she was going, so he allowed her to tow him along the lakeside path as it turned into a wooden walkway which went out onto the lake, following the curving shore about fifteen yards away. Some ducks waddled along in front of them until they got too close and the birds slipped though the guard rails and dropped into the cool green water a few inches below. "No baby ducks right now," Mani told him. "But there's tadpoles if you look." They stopped to inspect the water. No tadpoles.

"I think they might like the shallow water near the edge," said Reese.

"They grow into frogs," said Mani, following her own train of thought. "We've got some at my daycare." She tugged on his hand again. They followed the walkway a little further until it drew closer to the shore again. An ornamental waterfall splashed into the lake, cascading over artfully placed rocks.

"Look! There they are!" Mani pointed. Clinging to one of the big boulders out in the water was a bronze sculpture of a group of turtles. "Lift me up! I wanna see them!"

Reese obliged, picking Mani up so she could see over the guard rails. They stood like that for a moment. Golden sunlight filtered through the lengthening shadows of the trees up on the slope overlooking the lake. Birds twittered in the warm still air. Mani twisted in his arms. "Tell me a story. Like you did when I was stuck under the house," she demanded.

"I'm not much good at stories," he said to her, smiling a little at the thought of his last attempt.

"Maybe you just need practice," she said, sounding very grown up.

"Well, I heard a story today. It was about the kiwi bird," he said to the child.

"Okay, tell it!" she demanded.

"Let me see if I can remember it properly," he said, playing for time. "There were lots of different birds in it, and I can't really remember all their names. But the forest god, umm..."

"Tane-Mahuta, he's kaitiaki of the forest," said Mani. "Kaitiaki is like the, um, guardian," she added at his puzzled look.

"Oh. Okay. Well, Tane-Mahuta was walking through the forest, and he saw the trees were being eaten up by all the bugs. And so he asked the birds if one of them would go and live in the shadows down on the forest floor and keep the forest healthy by eating up all the bugs. He asked a whole lot of birds, but they were all too scared or had other things to do. So in the end the kiwi said he'd do it."

"Uh-huh." Mani nodded.

"The kiwi was scared, because he would lose his coloured feathers and his wings, but he decided to do it anyway, because it was the right thing to do. So he came down from the sunshine and the high branches and even now he stays down there in the dark and does what he's supposed to do, keeping the forest healthy."

"Is that the end of the story?" Mani asked after a pause.

"Yeah, I guess so. Tane punished the rest of the birds for being scaredy-cats-"

Mani giggled. "They couldn't be _scaredy-cats_!" She wriggled in his arms, overcome by her own hilarity. "They couldn't be scaredy-cats, 'cause they were _birds_!"

He grinned at her, but then suddenly sobered. "The other birds were punished, but the kiwi is the most honoured of birds, and his feathers adorn the cloaks of chiefs," he said softly.

Mani too became still. "Yeah," she said thoughtfully. "'Cause Kiwi was brave. And he gave up his nice feathers so the other birds could keep theirs. He was a goody, ay."

"Yeah, he was a goody," Reese agreed quietly.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

"It's funny how she's latched onto John," said Joss, watching the two figures out on the walkway.

"Yeah, she's like that though. It never seems to occur to her that anyone wouldn't like her," said Jerry.

"She knows she's loved," said Joss softly. "That's a great gift to give a child."

"So, ah, you guys don't have any kids, huh?" asked Sharon.

"No… no, we don't," said Joss, watching John walking back with Mani.

"Well… Mani was a bit of a miracle child for us," said Sharon. "We'd pretty much given up hope. And then suddenly… there I was, holding this little girl." She smiled a little at the memory.

Joss smiled back, but thought of the messy scar on her side….

" _Ms Carter? Joss?" She blinked her eyes open. White walls, the smell of antiseptic. Something beeping. A moment of utter panic:_ I can't feel my legs! _She moistened dry lips._

" _Am I… is it…?"_

" _You're okay, Joss. You're in the recovery room. You've just had surgery." A woman's voice. A nurse?_

 _She became aware of being wrapped in something… warm towels around her head and shoulders. She tried to move, but realised she was too exhausted to move a muscle. The nurse came into her field of vision, shooting her a smile as she fiddled with a monitor next to her somewhere, the source of the beeping. A blood pressure cuff she hadn't been aware of began to inflate, painfully gripping her arm._

" _Wha'? Wha'- what happened?" she finally managed._

" _You were caught in a landmine explosion. But you're okay now."_

 _She managed to move her head a little, rolled her eyes in the direction of the towels._

" _Oh, the towels? Your temperature dropped a little as you were coming out of surgery. Once it's come back up we'll take them away."_

" _M'… my legs?" she got out._

 _The nurse smiled. "Your legs are fine."_

Okay, so it's not my legs… any thing else I can deal with, my legs are okay, thank you Jesus, thank you…

 _The room had changed and she realised she had fallen asleep again. She moved a little in the bed. The towels were gone. Her legs were there again. A strange numbness in her stomach and abdomen, a warning feeling that if she moved too much she would regret it… Another woman, grey hair tied up in a bun, poked her head around the door, saw that she was awake, and came in._

" _Joss, I'm Eleanor, I was your surgeon."_

" _Oh. Um… thank you."_

 _The woman shot her a professional smile, and pulled a chair next to the bed. "You had a very lucky miss, Joss."_

" _Oh, yeah. I know it," she agreed. As her memories reassembled themselves she had a brief flash of the big guy standing next to her, the look in his eyes as he realised he'd just triggered a mine…_

" _Now, I need to talk to you about what we've done here," said Eleanor briskly. "Thankfully there was minimal damage to your spine and pelvis. A couple of vertebrae were nicked by splinter debris, but the damage will heal by itself. I had to resect some of your bowel, but again, that's not terribly serious. You'll never have a problem with your appendix, by the way."_

" _Well, that's good to know," said Joss. What was this woman leading up to?_

" _I'm afraid I had to remove one kidney, though," said the surgeon. "This won't have any immediate effect on you, since obviously you still have the other one. It just means that in future we need to avoid any line of medical treatment that might compromise it."_

" _Oh." Well, that was a big thing, she supposed. She tried to feel concerned about the missing organ._

" _And… I'm afraid your uterus was quite badly damaged. I wasn't able to save it." Eleanor's face was grave._

" _My… my womb?" There was a spreading numbness now, not just her stomach. The back of her neck felt hot._

" _I'm very, very sorry, Joss. But between the scarring from your emergency c-section and the damage from the landmine, I simply couldn't repair it. Damage like that can cause terrible problems in the future, and so I removed it." The surgeon's mouth was a tight line, her eyes sympathetic._

 _There was a long silence._

" _If you have any other questions about it-"_

" _No. No, I'm fine." She turned her head away, to hide the tears filling her eyes._

Sharon was looking at her, and Joss shook herself. "Sorry. I was somewhere else there for a moment."

Mani and John arrived back just then. The worst of the heat seemed to be over: just the whisper of a breeze taking the edge off it.

"Well, time for us to get this one home for her bath and bed," said Jerry, rising to his feet.

"Hey, it was great meeting up with you guys again," said Joss.

John added a murmur of agreement as he handed Mani off to her father. They all busied themselves packing up the remains of the picnic. John and Joss dumped nearly everything into a trash bin as they walked along the path away from the lake and back towards the parking lot and the main entrance to the gardens proper. As they approached the branch in the path where they would go their separate ways, Mani grabbed John around his waist – as high as her arms could go – and threw her head back, giving him a huge smile. Joss saw him smile back at her upturned face, but found herself swallowing a lump in her throat. Surely even a three-year-old would notice the undercurrent of sadness in that smile?

"Bye Mani," he said softly to her.

Sharon peeled her off him and hoisted her up. As they parted, Mani lay her head on her mother's shoulder, slipped a thumb into her mouth and gave a wave. John and Joss waved back, and then turned away.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

Joss slipped her hand into Reese's as they strolled along, through a high ornamental gateway and along a short path to a broad circular courtyard. Its coloured paving bricks formed a wide spiralling pattern. Several children were carefully walking their way around it, arms spread.

"She's a cute kid, huh?" said Joss as they walked.

"Yup," said Reese. He took a firmer grip on her hand.

They kept walking in silence, crossed a small wooden bridge and emerged into another circular courtyard, surrounded by a covered walkway. A fountain burbled in the centre. Three or four different paths radiated out from here, and they chose one at random. It led away, straight as an arrow, flanked by high hedges on each side.

"I wish…" he said, his voice trailing away. He couldn't really get it into words, this ache. Like a kiwi wanting its wings back?

"Yeah, me too," said Joss quietly. She rubbed her side, seemingly not even aware of the motion.

They walked on, the shadows lengthening in the warm evening.


	24. Chapter 24

The pathway they had chosen led to a cluster of small gardens "illustrating the history of garden design", according to the signage. They strolled on, hand in hand, through the Japanese Garden of Contemplation, the English Country Garden, the American Modernist Garden and the Chinese Scholar's Garden. Joss sneaked a look at John's profile. His melancholy mood seemed to be gradually lifting as they made their way into something grandly entitled "Ancient Egyptian Cloud Court", which contained a rectangular pool, apparently designed to reflect the sky, and two rather crude concrete statues of animal-headed Egyptian gods. They paused to inspect the sculptures.

"They're not exactly ripped," observed Joss after a moment. Indeed, the figures were distinctly flabby about the waist.

"Proof positive those gods don't really exist," agreed John. At her curious look he explained, "If they did, I'd think they would have struck this whole city with boils or something for making them look like that."

Joss sniggered, and they passed on to the next garden. The entrance was down a covered passageway, and so they emerged from a brief twilight into the Indian Char Bagh Garden.

"Oh," breathed Joss. It was like a living Persian carpet. The garden was surrounded by high white walls, with a marble pavilion at one end. The plants, which seemed to have been chosen for their bright colours, grew in a bed purposely dug out below the natural ground level to enhance the illusion of that living carpet. They began to walk towards the pavilion, around the sea of brightly coloured summer flowers. A fountain played in the middle, feeding four channels which divided the huge flower bed into quarters. They climbed the steps to the pavilion and sat down on a marble bench. Below them the river flowed. A small breeze ruffled John's hair.

"You know,'" he said after a moment, "even if it's just us, we're still a family."

She leaned her head against his shoulder. "We haven't even gotten married yet, you know."

He put his arm around her shoulders. "We missed New Year's Day." The day she'd suggested for their wedding.

"Yeah. It would have been good, but it's not a major."

They sat like that for a while, watching the river. "You wanted to get married in a garden," she said softly after a while.

"Yeah."

She could see the attraction of that – getting married in a place like this, all bright hopeful colours and cool serenity of marble. "John. When we get back to New York – let's go looking. For a place like this. And as soon as we find it, let's just get everyone together and do it."

He looked down at her, surprised by the eagerness in her voice. The smirk appeared. "Well, Carter, I'd prefer more privacy, but if you're game- ow!"

"You know what I mean," she said, pretending to be annoyed but secretly happy he'd definitely put his sadness aside. The arm around her shoulders tightened.

"Okay, Joss. Sounds like a plan to me."

They lingered a little longer in the cool pavilion until it was all shadows and the day's heat had gone completely. Then they rose and strolled in the deep twilight back to the car.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

Reese woke up early the next morning. Carter was lying warm and sweet-smelling against his chest; he breathed in the scent of her hair, but just for once this didn't evoke the usual response in his body. Instead he allowed his eyes to drift closed again, not exactly dozing but lying relaxed and at rest. The bone-deep exhaustion which had been dogging him in the weeks leading up to Christmas had dissipated, just as Finch had intended when he'd sent them on this trip to a faraway green country. He felt a sudden pang of sheer gratitude for Finch, and for the woman in his arms. And even for poor, long-suffering Fusco. As the light outside the curtains gradually brightened into full daylight he was forced to admit that for all his losses – and they were terrible – there had still been some undeniable gains.

As the light increased – another sunny day outside – Joss began to stir. She twisted sleepily in his arms and rolled over to lie with her head pillowed on his chest. After another few minutes she mumbled something and yawned. Reese smiled to himself. If Joss was ever stranded on a desert island with no coffee, the results would not be pretty.

"You know," she said, stifling another yawn, "you have a really slow heart rate."

He squinted down at her. "Good morning to you, too, Joss."

"No, I mean it. I've noticed it before."

Eh, a bizarre topic of conversation to wake up to, but just go with it…

"Yeah, well, it was what got me into Delta."

"Really? Your heart rate?"

"Yeah, really. Ever noticed how Special Forces men are usually little whippy guys? Not many my size can make it in."

Her brow wrinkled. "Yeah, now you mention it they usually are little guys. So how does your heart rate come into it?"

"Having a slow heart rate I guess means you have more leeway for it to increase as your workload increases. Marathon runners, successful ones anyway, usually have slow heart rates too. It also helps when you're aiming a weapon, since a lot of that's about breathing."

"Yes, I know that. Huh."

"Only thing is, a couple of times when I've been in hospital the heart monitors kept going off when I was asleep, 'cause my heart rate slowed down into the low forties or high thirties. They didn't like that. Hard to get a good night's sleep."

"Huh," she said again. Her fingers brushed the line of his ribcage and drifted lower, which caused him to choke off a little moan until he saw the pensive look on her face. She traced the scar from Simmons' bullet with her forefinger. It was shaped like a slightly deformed starfish, its pink fading to silver now, crouched on his abdomen. "Just trying to imagine you lying there in the safe house with this thing while I was-"

He stopped her mouth with a kiss.

"Don't think about it," he advised when they came up for air.

Somewhat to his disappointment, one thing did not lead to another this morning. Instead Joss stretched and announced her readiness for coffee and breakfast in that order. As they sat over their motel-provided continental breakfasts, complete with little foil-sealed containers of Vegemite, she got out the guide book – by now very well-thumbed.

"John, what do you say to not going back to Otama for a few days?"

He paused in spreading the axle grease on his toast. "What do you have in mind?"

"Well, if we head south we come down to the big lake at Taupo, and then over what they call the Desert Road, though I don't think it's real desert. That gets you through to more farming country and eventually you end up at the south end of the island, at Wellington. You can take a ferry across to the South Island, and there's lots of stuff to see there."

He pursed his lips. "What if we head north instead?"

"We go through Auckland and up to a place they call the Bay of Islands which is pretty heavy-grade tourist country, though not as much as Rotorua from what I can tell. If you keep going from there you end up at the northern tip of the island at Cape Reinga. Whichever way you go there's lots of pretty scenery."

"Or you can take your own scenery with you," he murmured, smiling at her. He was rewarded with a return smile and a blush.

"Flattery will get you everywhere. So which is it? North or south?"

He pretended to think for a moment, and allowed himself a smirk. "Well, Carter, I've always found going south to be pretty rewarding..."

She definitely flushed in response to this, and he could see her struggle to remain on task. Evidently trying to suppress a smile, she simply replied tartly, "Okay, Taupo it is. Shall we get the car packed?"

POI*POI*POI*POI*

More gently winding road, more green farmland, gradually giving way to pine forest. Tokoroa was a timber town, its main street decorated with immense totem pole-like carvings celebrating the different cultures present in the town. A huge wooden statue of a lumberjack, one foot propped on his chainsaw, was placed prominently by the side of the main drag, but they didn't stop. Joss could see that John, task-orientated as ever, was intent on getting them through to Taupo.

The road was gradually rising now, each crest they reached dropping away to a slightly shallower dip. The pine forest gave way to more rolling pastureland. Several Appaloosa horses, spotted hides gleaming in the sun, grazed in a field. A mile or so further on shaggy highland cattle, looking like yaks with their long horns, gazed in mild curiosity at passing traffic. They crested one last rise and saw the lake spread out before them. Far to the south, bluish in the summer air, the mountains of the island's Central Plateau were faint outlines. But in between was the great lake, its waters pale blue or slate grey where a cloud's shadow drifted across. The little town of Taupo clustered at the shore.

As they began the gradual descent to the lake Joss was flipping through the guide book. "It seems this ring of hills around the lake is actually the rim of a huge volcanic crater. The lake itself is an active volcano. It last erupted about 1800 years ago, and it has major eruptions every thousand years or so. Wait on, there's something wrong there..."

"Maybe not such a great place to buy real estate, then," murmured John, negotiating a gentle curve.

"Yeah, it says here the eruption of about 26,000 years ago was the Earth's most violent in recent geological history- SHIT!"

The car behind them decided to take a chance at overtaking, despite an almost blind bend and an oncoming tour bus. Thanks to John's evasive action the driver missed them by inches, and shot away in front with a derisive toot of his horn and a raised middle finger.

Joss sat motionless, allowing the adrenalin to drain back out of her system before trying to speak again. John continued to drive, his face assuming a stoic expression.

"Wow, it's moments like that you wish for a handy cop around the next corner to arrest them," she tried to joke.

"Yup," he agreed. "Or a handy anti-tank weapon concealed under the hood." Joss glanced sideways at him. He _was_ joking, right? They watched as the offending car, a late-model green sedan whose number plate she automatically took note of, disappeared around a bend in the road.

"So, Carter – you want to stop here for lunch? Or maybe even get a room for the night?"

"Hm." She considered. "Lunch, for sure. See how we feel about a room after we eat."

He shrugged slightly as he drove. "Fine, Carter. But just so you know – I'm getting hungry." There was a definite glint in his eye. Suddenly simply stopping for the afternoon looked a lot more attractive.

To be continued...


	25. Chapter 25

They reached Taupo by crossing over a small, fast-running river whose waters were a deep jade green, just like Reese's toki. He steered the car down Tongariro Street, which ran directly towards the lake and Mount Tongariro beyond. They used their old trick of pulling up a side street to find parking and eventually found some. It was peak tourist season, and the place was pretty busy.

Only busy by New Zealand's standards, though. Compared to the crowded sidewalks of New York, the place was practically deserted. They began to look for a good place for lunch. "How about this one?" asked Joss as they passed something which called itself "Danny's Diner". Inside, the back wall was a huge mural of the Manhattan skyline, the Chrysler Building prominent in the middle.

"Uh, maybe not," murmured Reese. They _were_ on vacation, after all. They kept walking towards the main drag. The place ran mostly to cafés and hole-in-the-wall takeout places selling kebabs, Thai and other ethnic cuisines. Reese wasn't really in the mood. It was a while since breakfast, and he hadn't been completely joking when he'd said he was hungry. He felt like something substantial: an old fashioned pub lunch for preference.

They got back to Tongariro Street. There were more food joints here among the tourist shops, so it was only another few minutes before they found a place on the corner of the street where it bent to follow the lake shore. It was a bar and restaurant offering steak and such like, looking right out onto the lake. With a dark green sedan parked outside.

Carter eyed the car a little nervously. "Are you sure we should go in, John? That's the vehicle which nearly ran us off the road."

"Why shouldn't we, Carter? It wasn't us that was doing something wrong."

"That's not what I meant, and I think you know it." She pulled him to a halt, one hand grasping his arm just above the elbow. "Promise me you won't do anything that might get us in trouble, John."

He gazed down at her innocently. "Look, I just want to get lunch. I won't start anything. I promise."

Her lips tightened and she looked unconvinced. He sighed. "Carter, I'm not going to get arrested. No-one got hurt, with luck the local law enforcement will catch up with this idiot sooner or later. And I really want lunch. Okay?"

She still didn't look all that convinced, but this time she was the one who sighed. Her fingers on his arm relaxed, and they walked into the restaurant.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

They collected menus from the bar and retreated to a table by the window. John courteously pulled out a chair for her, and they sat and looked through the food on offer. Joss's stomach was starting to complain, too. They seemed to be past the bulk of the lunch rush, and the restaurant was emptying out. It wasn't long before a young man wearing a back shirt and a white apron approached and took their orders: local pork and fennel sausages with gravy, mashed potatoes and a side salad for him, Thai beef salad for her. As they sat and ate, Joss couldn't help noticing the way John's eyes strayed to the bar off to their side. Eventually she twisted in her seat to follow his gaze. A Caucasian male, medium height, brown hair, no distinguishing marks, wearing jeans and leather jacket, was seated at the bar.

"Don't tell me. That's our man, huh?" she sighed.

"Yep." He shovelled another mouthful of sausage and potato into his mouth.

"Trust you to be able to take a good look at the guy even when you were braking and swerving to avoid him," she griped. He recognised the note of pride in her voice and smirked in reply.

They continued with their lunch.

Over at the bar their nemesis from the road finished his drink. Joss saw John's ears prick as the man was refused another beer. "Sorry, mate," the bartender said firmly. "You've had enough. I can do you a soft drink if you're still thirsty."

The man said something Joss couldn't quite catch, though she recognised the tone: belligerent bordering on aggressive. John was sitting a little straighter in his seat. She shot him a warning look.

"Not our concern, John," she said quietly.

Unfortunately this didn't seem to have much effect: he continued to watch the scene taking place over at the bar.

Leather Jacket Guy was now on his feet, leaning across the bar and getting in the bartender's face. The bar tender, a stocky guy with grey hair wasn't having, well, a bar of it, and stepped back, folding his arms. "You want me to call the cops?" he said. "Now, get out before I chuck you out."

Leather Jacket Guy sneered at this. "You wanna fuck with me, mate? I'll fuck with you right back," he said loudly.

"I'm so sorry, Joss," said John softly as he got to his feet. He ambled over in the direction of the bar, apparently just looking for extra paper napkins, but his route took him past Leather Jacket Guy and as Joss watched John's tremendous speed in a fight came into play. He hadn't even moved, she could have sworn, but suddenly he was holding Leather Jacket Guy and twisting the man's arm behind his back.

"You gonna make any trouble?" John said – quietly, but easily audible in the sudden quiet of the bar. In response, Leather Jacket Guy tried to break away.

"Bad idea," said John. There was a 'pop' as he dislocated the man's elbow.

"Oops," said John.

Leather Jacket Guy slid to the floor, sobbing in pain.

Joss shot to her feet and hurried across to the tableau: John standing looking unconcerned, the drunk cradling his arm and weeping, the bar man looking in fact rather pleased. "Are you out of your mind?" she hissed. "You just assaulted that guy! In broad daylight! In front of witnesses!"

The bartender cracked a smile at her as she delivered this salvo at her unrepentant man. "I wouldn't worry too much about that, ma'am," he said. "This stupid bugger's been on the verge of being banned from this place for months. Personally, I didn't see a thing." He raised his voice. "I really must take better care to keep the floor properly mopped, ay. Poor Shane here has slipped over and hurt himself." There was an appreciative mutter from the few remaining patrons as they turned back to their drinks and meals.

John bent over the weeping man. "If you ask me nicely and then get the hell out of here," he said quietly, "I can pop that elbow back in."

Shane looked up at him, blinking tears of pain away. John held his gaze, his eyebrows rising.

"Please?" quavered the injured man.

"My pleasure," murmured John. He pulled the arm out straight and gave an expert yank. There was another 'pop', accompanied by a yelp from Shane. He seemed to have sobered up quite a lot as he staggered upright. He gave John an extremely daunted glance as he hurried from the bar.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

They strolled arm in arm back up Tongariro Street, crossing the road to walk past the tourist information centre, public library and a wonderfully carved gateway into the park which lay alongside the street. Several long-distance buses were pulled up along the roadside, passengers milling around as their bags were stowed away in the luggage lockers. As they passed, one of the buses closed its doors and pulled away from the curb in a puff of diesel exhaust. One unlucky, or disorganised, traveller pelted along the street after it. Her suitcase bounced over the small unevennesses of the paving as she towed it along, but the bus rumbled on its way, passing out of sight as it rounded a corner.

The beer which had accompanied his meal was just starting to make its presence felt in his bladder when Joss announced that she too needed the toilet facilities they could see just up ahead of them. They made their way along the sidewalk towards them.

After they had finished they began the walk back towards the street where their car was parked. The young woman who had been chasing the bus was still there, sitting disconsolately on her suitcase and checking her phone. As they passed she gave a low moan. "Oh, no. Oh, shit." There were tears in her eyes. Joss glanced up at Reese and then touched the girl on the shoulder. "Excuse me, but are you okay?" she said.

The girl jumped. She was a skinny thing with mousy brown hair and glasses. She swiped her hair out of her eyes as she answered. "I just missed my bus." She glanced down at her phone. "And I've lost my job. And I'm broke."

"Oh." Joss chewed her lip and glanced up at Reese again.

"Where were you headed?" he asked.

"Wellington. At least, I was. Like I said, I'm broke so I guess I'm not headed anywhere now. Not that it matters any more." The young woman glanced again at her phone.

Joss drew Reese aside. "We could give her a lift," she said quietly.

His brows drew down. He wasn't at all sure he wanted a third party with them right now.

"I know, I know," said Joss, seeing his expression. "But… that could be Taylor, sitting there..."

Reese sighed. It would be a cold day in hell when he could resist Carter on something like this. She saw the decision in his face and gave him a quick hug before turning back to the girl sitting on the suitcase. "I'm Joss, and this is John. We're on vacation here, and we were heading for Wellington. Would you like a lift?"

POI*POI*POI*POI*

The girl's name was Cassie, she told Joss. She was nineteen and a student nurse. The job she'd lost was a holiday job in a garden centre. "I asked for leave so I could spend New Year's with my boyfriend," she explained. "They weren't very happy, but they gave it to me, except I had to be back tomorrow. Which was fine, except I had a row with Tony, and his sister too, and they wouldn't give me a lift to the bus stop. So I was late, and..." she shrugged. They reached the car, and there was a few moments of organising it: some things transferred from the back seat to the trunk and room made for Cassie's suitcase. Then they were on their way again, passing along the lake shore past sparkling waters and timeshare resorts and little sailboats out on the blue lake.

"Were you planning to stop much on the way?" asked Cassie.

"We hadn't quite decided," said John.

"Well, I'm truly grateful for the lift. So please don't change your plans on my account." She paused, apparently embarrassment. "Um. It's just that I've got about fifteen bucks in my wallet and about the same in my bank account. So, ah, if you decide to stop for the night I'll just hitch from there."

"You'll do no such thing," said Joss firmly.

"No, really, it'll be fine. I've done it before-"

"Cassie, I'm a cop. I know what can happen to people who hitch-hike alone. If we stop for the night we will pay for your accommodation. You can pay us back when we reach Wellington."

Beside her John added, "Besides, Cassie, Joss and I were sent here by a mysterious billionaire. We have two platinum credit cards to pay for everything, and if there's a credit limit on them we haven't found it yet. So relax." He smirked cheerfully at Joss as he said this.

Cassie sat back with a sigh. "Billionaire. Yeah, right."

Joss smiled back at John as the car headed south along the lake's edge in the afternoon sunlight.

To be continued….


	26. Chapter 26

**Okay, sorry all as I haven't posted a chapter to this overgrown monstrosity of a story in a long time. It would be fair to say that the advent of Season 5 of POI has been a bit of a distraction. Don't worry, I fully intend to finish this story – there are things in New York which will demand the attention of our favourite couple in due course. To recap, John and Joss have decided to take a road trip to Wellington and have picked up Cassie, a young woman who is broke and missed her bus. They are heading south along the shores of Lake Taupo towards the North Island central plateau...**

They lapsed into silence as Reese drove them along the lake edge. After a while the road headed east, away from the water, climbing into the low hills. They passed into a forested area as the road became steeper and the bends tighter. Then the road began to turn westward again. They were following a gorge now, pale grey cliffs rising off to the left, a small river tumbling down towards the lake, which had re-emerged in front of them. Joss had her guide book out again. "Seems those cliffs there are all volcanic rock from the eruption which created the lake. It says here that the lava solidified three hundred feet thick in these parts."

Reese tried to imagine the scale of the eruption, but gave up. Cassie seemed interested, though. "Yeah, look. You can see the layers in the cliff. There must've been two eruptions, 'cause there's a line there – see?" She gazed out the window with interest. Joss passed the book back so Cassie could read up.

"So what kind of nursing are you studying, Cassie?" Reese asked when the geology got too much.

He glanced in the rear-view mirror. Cassie swiped her mouse-brown hair out of her eyes and adjusted her spectacles before she answered.

"My course is a general one – we get rotated through a bunch of specialities. Last year I did stints in paediatric, palliative and mental health."

"So has that given you an idea of what you might do when you're finished?" asked Joss.

Cassie sighed. "Actually, I'm having a bit of a crisis about that. Mental health was scary. Palliative care was interesting, but depressing. And it turns out I'm not that great with kids." She looked out the window. "I decided to go nursing because I wanted to help people. But after last year, I don't know any more."

"Yeah?" said Joss. "What changed?"

"I'm not really sure. I s'pose I just realised that helping people isn't so glamorous as I thought. People are a lot less grateful than you think they're going to be."

"Yeah, that's true enough," sighed Joss.

"So what do you guys do?" asked Cassie.

"I'm a cop. John..."

"Helps people," put in Reese with a smirk.

Joss rolled her eyes at him. "He's a private detective," she explained to Cassie.

"Really? Wow, that must be exciting!"

"Not really," he said, negotiating a tight turn: the road was now following the shoreline, cliffs rising on one side right next to the road and a sheer drop into the water thirty feet below on the other side.

"So, like, have you ever had to shoot anyone?" Cassie's eyes were shining with admiration. Reese sighed inside. He could recognise the signs of incipient hero-worship, which he could do without.

"Nope," he said firmly. "Mostly I just follow people and take pictures."

"Oh." Cassie sounded disappointed.

"So, Cassie, you know this road, right? Are there any good places to stop in the next couple of hours, or do we just keep heading south?" Joss asked.

"Well, the next town is Turangi. It's a great place to be if you like trout fishing and outdoors stuff like that, but there's nothing much to see there. Then we go over the Desert Road to Waiouru. There's a big museum there – the Army Museum. There's a big army base at Waiouru. I've never been inside the museum, but it's supposed to be really good. Then there's not much until Taihape-" she said it 'Tie-happy' "-which is pretty boring, just a small farming town. But any of those places will have food and loos."

"Mm. Maybe we'll stop at this museum, then," said Reese. Joss nodded agreement.

Before they got there, though, they passed the little town of Turangi, crossing another jade-green stream with several anglers standing hip-deep in the water, casting their lines. Off to their right once they had cleared the town was another stretch of pine plantation. On the left was a depressing vista of recently felled forest. More of the pine, presumably, though the wreckage of ploughed-up ground and broken stumps was far from scenic. But soon they left this too behind, entering more native forest as the road became more and more like a switchback, climbing and dipping as it followed the increasingly hilly contours of the land. The mountains loomed much closer now. Just a little hazy and off to their right was a perfect volcanic cone, with very little snow on it. Cassie followed Reese's glance. "That's Mount Ngauruhoe," she said, pronouncing the mountain's name as 'Narru-hoey.' "They used it for Mount Doom in _The Lord of the Rings_."

"Ever been up there?" Reese asked as the mountain disappeared from view behind some trees.

"Oh, hell no," said Cassie. "I'm not really outdoorsy. Though I hear it's quite a climb. Lots of people do the Tongariro Crossing though. Tongariro's the mountain over on the other side, you can't see it from here. You can walk from one side of the mountain across the saddle between Tongariro and Ngauruhoe. It's supposed to be amazing, but you need to be pretty fit. You can climb Ngauruhoe as a side trip."

They negotiated a tight bend, the road crossing a small mountain stream. Joss and Cassie waxed geological again, picking out the darker lines left by eruptions in the exposed clay of the hillside next to the road, when Reese slowed the car as they climbed again. Up ahead was a young man standing at the side of the road with his thumb out in the classic gesture.

"What do you think?" Reese asked. "We've got room, we could take him through to the next town at least."

Cassie shrugged her shoulders. "Fine by me," she murmured. There was a pause while Joss eyed their potential extra passenger doubtfully. Finally, with only a couple of seconds remaining before they passed him, she said "Okay, but only as far as Waiouru."

Reese pulled the car to a halt and wound down the window. "We can drop you at Waiouru," he told the guy.

"Sweet," said the man, a stocky red-haired guy in tatty jeans and a faded red t-shirt. He walked around the car to the spare seat in the back and slid in next to Cassie.

"No bags?" asked Joss.

"Ah, no," said the man. "I like to travel light."

Light on deodorant, for sure, Reese thought. The guy had quite a waft – a funny combination of ordinary body odour and an underlying reek like a swamp. He felt sorry for Cassie, trapped next to him, and found himself regretting his generous impulse as he pulled the car back onto the road.

"So, what's your name?" asked Joss. She too was breathing through her mouth.

"Brian," said the man. "Thanks for the lift. I was getting worried – the traffic's starting to thin out for the day." He paused a second and asked "Hey, have you guys been listening to the news today?"

"No," said joss. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, just wondering if you'd heard a weather forecast."

"No, afraid not," said Reese. "Looks like the weather's going to stay pretty good. Where are you headed?"

"I've got a mate over in Hawke's Bay who says he can get me a job fruit picking there. How about you guys?"

"We're tourists," said Joss. "Heading down to Wellington. We thought we'd stop in Waiouru for a few hours though."

"Oh. Cool." Brian lapsed into silence. His smell filled the car; Cassie seemed to be huddling away from him. Reese and Carter exchanged glances. _There's definitely something off about this guy,_ she seemed to be telegraphing to him. _And it's not just the smell!_

The terrain was changing now, the forest giving way to grassland and the slopes becoming long inclines. As they topped each one, another dip and a higher rise on the other side was revealed. Ngauruhoe had dropped away behind them, but the real giant heaved over the hill crests to their right.

"So that would be Mount Ruapehu, right?" asked Joss, her guidebook open on her lap.

"Yep," said Cassie. She was fiddling with her phone, but put it away with a sigh. "No cell phone reception here. I was looking for a photo of the last time there was an eruption, a couple of years ago."

"Really? It's that active?" Joss gazed with respect at the mountain – not so perfect a cone as Ngauruhoe, but still projecting a brooding presence. There were no trees at all now, just golden tussock grass stretching away for miles of gently rolling countryside. A line of power pylons marched across the wasteland, but aside from that there was noting between them and the feet of the mountain's dark, hulking mass. There was only a little snow on it, right near the top.

"Yeah. In winter you can ski there, but a couple of years ago it gave a little belch. There was this big dark stain on the snow for a while, until a storm dumped some fresh stuff. I think some trampers staying in a hut near the summit got a big fright, though. Cinders coming in through the roof."

They crested another rise. There was a large sign proclaiming "NZ ARMY DEFENCE AREA. WAIOURU MILITARY TRAINING ZONE. STAY OUT. LIVE FIRING BOTH SIDES OF THE ROAD."

"Good Lord," said Joss. "They do that with a major highway running through here?"

"Can't say I've ever seen it. You've got more chance of being trampled by the wild horses. They're supposed to be here too, but I've never caught so much as a glimpse of them," said Cassie.

It certainly looked peaceful enough. There was only a little traffic now, the occasional oncoming vehicle and as far as Reese could tell no one apart from themselves heading south. Just the red-brown soil and the golden tufts of grass, bending in the wind. Up ahead, though, there were two figures – a couple of guys in woodland-pattern fatigue pants and dull green t-shirts. They had full army packs, and they were jogging steadily along the road.

"Wonder what they did wrong?" wondered Cassie. "Piss off the sergeant-major or what?"

"They might be training for something," said Carter.

"Or maybe they just lost a bet," added Reese. They passed the two men, still jogging even as the road began to climb up another long rise. One of them pulled out a water bottle and took a long pull from it. Reese suppressed a smile. The sight certainly brought back memories of simpler days.

After another few minutes at the top of another rise Reese pulled the car over to the side of the road. There was a little bay with plenty of tyre tracks – evidently lots of people before them had pulled over to get out and stretch their legs and take in the view. And the smell was getting to him.

They got out and breathed deep. The snow clinging to the top of Ruapehu gleamed in the rays of the sun, now beginning slide toward the horizon. A cool breeze ruffled Reese's hair. He turned with a smile to share the moment with Joss, just in time to see Brian lunge for Cassie. One arm was across her throat; a knife blade caught the sun with a flash as he pressed it to the side of her neck with his other hand. She gave a small cry, and then became still as she felt the prick of the knife.

To be continued...


	27. Chapter 27

Carter was frozen at his side as they took in the scene. Cassie was whimpering with fear, her eyes rolling.

"Gimme the keys," said Brian. "Right now, or I'll slit her throat."

Reese's forehead wrinkled. "I can't do that, Brian," he said in a reasonable tone of voice.

Cassie gasped.

"I haven't got them – they're still in the ignition," Reese added quickly.

Brian forced his captive to move as he shuffled over to where the driver's side door of the car was still sitting open.

"Okay," he said in a slightly calmer tone of voice. Uncertain, too, Reese thought. This guy really hasn't been thinking ahead.

Joss was watching Brian too. "Brian, you need to put that knife down. I don't know what's going on with you, but hurting people won't help."

"Shut the fuck up," snarled Brian. "I'm taking that car. You can dump your phones and wallets down on the ground there."

Reese slowly pulled out his phone, gauging the distance to Cassie and Brian as he did so. The numbers came out wrong. If he tried anything Brian could have the tip of his knife through Cassie's carotid artery in a second. His phone hit the ground, making a sad 'chink' sound as the screen shattered. As he was digging his wallet from his pocket, Cassie made a strange gurgling sound and went rigid. Brian found himself struggling to contain her as her limbs twitched and her back arched. She began to slump to the ground. Joss took advantage of the sudden change and hurled her phone as hard as she could at Brian's face. He was trying to shove Cassie away from him as it hit. Joss was moving in towards Brian; by now Cassie had almost reached the ground and the path was clear for Reese to reach Brian in three rapid strides. He blocked Brian's attempted thrust with the knife easily and landed two hard punches into the man's ribcage. He was already on his way towards the deck when Joss arrived to plant a hard kick with supreme accuracy right between Brian's legs. The guy screamed and collapsed, curling into a foetal position. Reese kicked the fallen knife well away. In absence of useful zip ties there wasn't much he could do but stand guard over their perp – though he wasn't going anywhere, not for quite a while.

Joss was tending to Cassie, still twitching on the ground. She leaned over and touched her shoulder. "Cassie, honey, can you hear me?"

Abruptly Cassie stopped twitching. She gazed up at Joss. "Did you get him?" Her voice sounded quite normal.

"Uh, yeah, we did," said Joss. She sounded very puzzled. "Um, did you just have a seizure?"

"Only a pretend one," said Cassie.

Reese's brows rose. "You were taking a helluva risk. You could have been killed."

"I'm trying not to think about that part of it," confessed Cassie. She raised herself into a sitting position. Brian's cries were tailing off into muffled whimpers. "What are we going to do now?" she asked.

"That's a good question," said Joss. She gazed around. "No cell coverage here, right?"

"It's patchy. If one of us goes down the road we might get lucky."

"I don't want to leave anyone alone with our friend here," said Joss. She peered down the road. "No traffic right now." She chewed her lip in frustration.

"Hey," said Cassie. "Look!" She stood up and waved. The perspiring figures of the grunts they had passed a couple of miles back were coming into view. They ignored her at first, but she continued to jump up and down and wave. Finally they got to within a hundred yards or so and noticed the prone figure of Brian on the ground beside the car with Reese standing watchfully over him. They came to a halt.

"Can you guys help us?" said Joss. "We picked this guy up and he pulled a knife on us. There's no cell phone coverage here, we need to call the police."

The taller of the two guys came a bit closer. He nodded and pulled a radio from his belt.

"Ah," said the other. "This'll be that bugger that walked away from Rangipo yesterday."

"Rangipo?" asked Joss.

Cassie answered. "It's a prison farm we passed a while back. Or passed the turnoff for it, anyhow. No wonder he was asking whether we'd heard any news – he wanted to make sure we didn't know he was on the run."

Reese could picture it – the guy managing to separate himself from a working party, fading into the forest, spending a night outdoors. No big deal in summer. Maybe some accomplice had left a stash of clothing, or maybe he'd got lucky and found something dumped in a garbage bin at some roadside rest area. That would explain the smell, anyhow.

The other grunt was on his radio. When he got off he gave a grin and said, "The cops are on their way. I think they're pretty happy with you guys."

After that they waited by the roadside. The soldiers were happy enough to lean against the side of the car; one produced a packet of cigarettes, offered them around, found no takers and then lit up. The breeze whipped his smoke away instantly. Brian had stopped sobbing and lay quietly in a heap on the ground.

"That was some stunt you pulled," murmured Reese to Cassie. She smiled ruefully. "I kind of thought that a seizure might freak him out enough to make him let go of me. They certainly freak _me_ out."

"Yeah, well let me tell you something." He made his voice as stern as he possibly could, short of threatening homicide. "If you are _ever_ in a situation like this again, which I hope you never will be – do _not_ do that. You got lucky there. If it had been-" me, I'd have had that knife through your carotid, lights out and goodbye, he was going to say, but he changed it on the fly to "-someone jumpier you'd have been dead. And then someone would have had to tell your parents that their girl had bled to death by the side of the road at the hands of some smelly punk. You want to put them through that?"

Cassie's eyes were downcast. "No. I suppose not."

He softened his tone. "You've got guts, Cassie. And you think fast in an emergency. I would just hate to see all that potential lost."

She looked up and gave him a shaky smile. "Okay. Thanks."

"You're welcome," he told her, turning away to go stand by Carter.

She was gazing out at Mount Raupehu. "It must be really spectacular when there's snow on it," she said softly.

"Him's a big mountain, him's nearly as big as Daddy," he agreed.

She shot him an amused smile. "What?"

"Something I apparently said when I was little. Not sure which mountain I was referring to, but Mom used to quote it at me every time we were driving somewhere and passed a mountain or a big hill."

She didn't reply, just took his hand and squeezed it. They leaned up against one another a little, breathed the clean air and soaked up the slanting rays of the sun while they listened to the wind sighing in the golden tussock.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

They saw the police car before they heard the siren. A tiny white, blue and yellow speck with red and blue flashing lights was coming at high speed from the south, disappearing into the brown-gold landscape and then reappearing slightly larger as it crested another rise. Then the siren became audible, rising and falling above the wind. The car rounded a bend up ahead and slowed in response to one of the soldiers, who stepped out onto the road to wave it down. It pulled up in a crunching of gravel. The single cop, clad in a bulky dark blue stab-proof vest over a pale blue short-sleeved shirt, got out. Explanations seemed hardly necessary, but Joss launched into the tale of their picking up Brian and then having him pull a knife on them.

The cop, a grey-headed guy but still tall, fit and lean, nodded and walked over to where Brian was lying, guarded by one of the grunts. "Brian Jeffrey Dixon, you are under arrest for assault and escaping from lawful detention," he said. He nodded to the soldier. "Would you mind helping me get him up so I can cuff him?" The soldier complied and Brian was soon restrained – not that he really seemed to need it, deflated as he was. He began to shuffle over to the cop car. "She kicked me in the balls," he said to the cop, finally breaking his silence. "That cow kicked me in the balls." He sounded distinctly aggrieved. The cop didn't respond directly to this, merely flicking his eyebrows up and smiling slightly in Joss's direction. Then he loaded his prisoner into the car and with a final wave pulled it out onto the road in a u-turn to head back to Waiouru.

"Well," said Joss to the soldiers, "thanks for your help. We'd offer you a lift, but there isn't really room."

"We could take your packs for you," offered John. "Drop 'em by the side of the road in a couple of miles."

One of the grunts looked interested in this offer, but his mate had other ideas. "No pain, no gain," he said, though with a slight hint of regret. The two men shouldered their packs again and got ready to continue.

John, Joss and Cassie got back into the car. At least having stood with the doors open for this long had rid it of the lingering smell of Brian. John pulled it out onto the road to continue their trip.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

Waiouru proved to be a one-horse town, the horse in question being the New Zealand Army and especially the military museum. There was a single motel, which only ran to one bedroom units, with fold-out sofas in the living areas. Despite its slightly grubby, down-at-heel atmosphere they took one. It was too late in the day to contemplate a trip to the museum, so after they settled in at the motel they crossed the main drag to sample the delights of local cuisine. This proved to be a Subway, of all things – it being by now a Monday evening (Joss was slightly surprised at this, and had to count on her fingers to make sure that was right) the only other food joint in town was closed.

"So, what do we do now?" asked Joss after they had finished. The sun was only just touching the hills out west. The evening stretched ahead of her like a lonely highway. She couldn't really regret picking up Cassie, but there was no denying her presence was a little… inconvenient. She could see John thinking the same thing. _Why didn't we just pay for two units?_ She thought to herself. _Too late now…_

Cassie was digging in her bag. "I've got some cards here. Have you guys ever played Five Hundred?"

John nodded. "Some friends taught us a few days ago. But I thought you needed four people."

"It's better with four, but you can set up a dummy hand and take turns at having no partner," said Cassie.

"We could play poker instead-" began John.

Joss rolled her eyes at him. "I think Five Hundred would be safer."

"You're no fun, Carter."

"Five Hundred. That's final."

He rolled his eyes in turn and sighed theatrically.

Cassie watched the byplay, slightly bemused. "Poker's fine if you like. Dad taught me to play once, years ago."

"Yeah, c'mon, Joss," said John.

"You're corrupting a..." well, Cassie wasn't really a minor. Joss felt herself wavering. "Not for money, okay? We'll find some matchsticks or something."

John shrugged his shoulders slightly. "Okay."

Later that evening, as they were preparing for bed, Joss broke the silence. "Come on, admit it. I was right to insist on matchsticks."

John's shoulders merely hunched in reply.

"I mean, imagine if it'd been money!"

Firmly, John turned out the light. Joss smiled to herself. Once she'd gotten over the shock it'd been sheer joy to see that girl absolutely clean John's clock. Her muffled guffaw as she climbed in beside him evoked only an irritated grunt in response.

To be continued….


	28. Chapter 28

**Big apologies for the long delay in posting this chapter. My muse went off in a totally different direction with my fix-it fic "Survival" (three guesses what it's about!) plus, I've just started a new job. But enough excuses – on with the story...**

Reese moved a little in his sleep. There was an absence in front of him: Joss had slipped out of his arms and left the bed. He woke up enough to register this fact, and the light level (completely dark) and the sound of a toilet flushing. He was sinking back into deep sleep when the bed moved as Joss returned. But she didn't get into bed on her side, to return to her usual place. Instead she was up against his back. He could feel her sweet soft breasts pressed against him, her breath against the back of his neck, her arms around him as he moved slightly to accommodate her. Her hands began to move, tracing delicious paths along his side, across his chest, down to his navel. The last dregs of sleep were draining away. He was wide awake, oh yeah, starting to breathe deeply in the darkness as those hands kept moving, roaming, touching…. Just not touching him _quite_ enough… fingers twined in the trail of hair leading south from his bellybutton. He was absolutely rigid with desire, oh God, _please_ will you go lower…. He moaned slightly, feeling the sweat breaking out across his back and chest. _If this goes on much longer I won't be able to hold on…_ Behind him Joss chuckled and placed a trail of kisses down his spine. Okay, enough was enough. He twisted and lunged in the bed, suddenly poised over the top of her, pinning her down just the way she liked. "Two can play at this game, Joss," he whispered.

"...In fact, it's more fun that way," she finished for him. He leaned down for a long kiss. Her hands were busy again, this time in an even more maddening way. He moaned again. "Shhh," whispered Joss. "Remember Cassie's out there."

"Can't expect me to keep quiet when you're doing _that_ ," he grumbled.

"Oh. Sorry." There was a pause in the darkness. "How about that instead?"

"Not helping, Carter," he whispered, and went to work in his own turn.

Actually, he reflected afterwards, it had been a pleasant challenge. How to make Carter explode without making a sound. He was pretty sure he'd managed it, their mutual eruption worthy of the Taupo volcano itself but registering to the rest of the world as a single drawn-out groan, mostly muffled in a long, deep kiss.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

Breakfast was the usual motel fare: small prepackaged portions of breakfast cereals, toast and little pats of butter, jam and Vegemite. They loaded all their stuff in the car and drove carefully across the highway to the museum opposite.

It was a big concrete structure, deliberately designed to look like a huge bunker. There were a bunch of ancient tanks and artillery pieces parked outside; nobody was especially interested in them and they made their way into the building.

They were practically the first people in, so they paid their entry fee and walked up a ramp into the first exhibit.

"'Tears on Greenstone'," read Cassie. "Oh yeah. This is the Roll of Honour. They read out the names of all our war dead." The room was walled with slabs of greenstone; water ran down them making a continual trickling noise while name after name was intoned softly over an audio system. It was a sombre introduction to the rest of the museum. Joss shivered a little as they passed through the room. More than thirty thousand men and women had died in various wars; not a trivial death toll for a nation which had only passed the four million population mark a few years previously.

Military museums always gave Joss a strange feeling. From her own experience she knew that military service could be boring, terrifying, exhilarating, deeply satisfying and utterly disheartening. She doubted it was different regardless of what country you were serving, and so it proved. Cassie seemed most interested in the quirkier displays, like the improvised weapons New Zealand soldiers had come up with in the trenches of the Gallipoli peninsula during the First World War: grenades made from jam tins, or an ingenious Rube Goldberg contraption which used dripping water to keep an unmanned rifle firing randomly while the soldiers slipped away when the peninsula was eventually abandoned.

She saw John staring in horrified fascination at the account of the Kiwi contribution to the history of tank warfare: the Semple Tank, named after the government minister who had insisted that _of course_ a tiny country had to build its own tanks during the Second World War. The resultant… _thing_ … had been made of corrugated iron welded onto a farm tractor chassis: clumsy, slow and inadequately armed. Its disgusted users had called it the "Septic Tank"; thankfully it had never seen active service. "Nice to see the US Army didn't corner the market on idiocy," he remarked with a smile.

They spent an hour or so at the museum and then piled back into the car to head south again.

POI*POI*POI*POI

The tussock of the Central Plateau gradually turned back into green pasture. Too steep for dairy cattle, this was sheep country. They passed a well-grazed tract of hillside where a farmer was driving a flock of sheep. He was riding a motor bike while two black and white dogs ranged around the mob, nudging them towards an open gate in the corner of their field. Joss craned her head back to see the flock beginning to pour through the gate before the scene was lost around a bend in the road.

They were beginning to feel just a bit hungry when they reached the little town of Taihape, driving past a greasy spoon on the right and a huge corrugated iron sculpture of a rubber gumboot on the left. "This place calls itself the Gumboot Capital of the world," Cassie explained as they passed it. "Because of all the farmers. Gumboots being what all Kiwi farmers wear, probably even to bed. They have a yearly Gumboot Festival with gumboot throwing competitions and the Running of the Sheep, when they drive a whole lot of them down the main street."

"At least they don't take themselves too seriously," said Joss.

"Yeah, it's all in good fun. And God knows, there can't be a lot else to do in Taihape."

By this time they were on the town's main drag. "You wanna stop here for lunch?" asked John.

"Here's as good as any place," replied Cassie. "The next town's Hunterville, and that's even smaller than Taihape. Better chance of decent food here than anywhere else for the next couple of hours."

They pulled over to park on the street. There was a likely looking café not far along, and so they made for it.

It must be a good place, Joss thought, because it was doing good business. They stood in line and eventually made their way back outside to a table in the sun, bearing coffees and panini. Cassie was smiling to herself.

"A penny for your thoughts," said Joss.

"Oh, I was just thinking about a story I heard about a fast food joint in this town. Most likely completely false, but one of the bus drivers on this route used to tell it when we passed through here. Seems there were a couple of fencing contractors working up in the hills hereabouts. You've seen all those wire fences that keep the sheep in? Well, most farmers string them themselves, but there are enough who have the money to pay someone else to do it that you can make a living off it. So anyway, there's these two guys, one who's been doing it for years, the other a young bloke. And they've been out building fences all week when the young fella decides he wants to go into the steaming metropolis of Taihape for some Chinese food one Saturday night. The older guy allows himself to be persuaded, so they hop in the ute – which I guess you guys would call a utility truck – and drive into town." Cassie took a bite of her panini and a sip of coffee.

"They get to the Chinese takeaway and of course it's full to bursting. People right out the door. The young fella is downcast, because he knows it's going to take at least half an hour before they even take his order, and then probably even longer before they cook it, and he's hungry. So the older bloke takes pity on him. Back then some of the local councils would offer a bounty on possums as a pest control measure, and this guy had been setting possum traps each night before they went to bed, so in the back of the ute he had a pile of dead possums he'd been planning to bring in for the bounty. So he goes and gets a couple off the pile, shoulders his way to the front of the queue and slams these two possums down on the counter. 'I can do you two more for today,' he says to the fella behind the cash register, 'but that's it until you pay me for the others!' There's dead silence in the shop, and then there's a kind of little stampede for the exit. And so the young fella got his Chinese. Though the bus driver said he was never sure whether the takeaway owner's business survived, since those two guys were probably the only people in the district who would eat there after that. And the older bloke didn't even like Chinese."

Joss smiled at the story. Even John seemed amused. "Can you even eat possum?" he asked, chewing on his panini.

"I'm pretty sure you can," said Cassie. "There's a Wild Food Festival down somewhere in the South Island each year, and I think they serve possum there. Can't imagine what it tastes like, though."

"Probably like chicken," said Joss. "Isn't everything supposed to taste like chicken?"

"No, that's a myth," said John as he took a last swig of his coffee. "I ate raccoon once, and it was nothing like chicken."

"Euew! You ate raccoon? When?" Cassie was immediately interested.

"Survival training," he said briefly.

"Surviving what?"

He rolled his eyes at Joss. _Oops, I've said too much._ "Zombie apocalypse." Cassie pulled a face at him as he stood up.

"Time to get back on the road if we want to get to Wellington tonight," he said.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

The steep hill country continued south of Taihape. They passed through the little town of Hunterville ("Huntaway capital of the World") without stopping.

"What's a huntaway?" asked Reese idly. Joss was taking a turn behind the wheel, so he had the leisure to stare out the window at the little public park with its statue of a sheepdog.

"It's a type of sheepdog. Moves the sheep by barking at them. They're often big black and tan fellas," said Cassie. "They use them in hill country a lot."

"Those dogs we saw with the farmer back aways, then – what were they?" asked Joss.

"The black and white ones? Heading dogs, they call them. They use border collies for that. They sometimes call them 'eye dogs', because they kind of stare at the sheep."

"So they move them by psychic powers?" Reese was amused. He stretched his legs out as much as he could – there was never enough leg room in the Japanese cars New Zealanders favoured – and rolled his shoulders, glad to be free of the stress of driving these winding roads.

Gradually the hills became less steep, more rounded but still green. A huge gorge had opened up, a couple of miles off to their left. "The Rangitikei river," Cassie identified for them, though they never got a glimpse of the river itself, just the pale grey cliffs on the opposite side of the canyon it lay at the bottom of. Some miles later they left the gorge behind along with the last of the hills. Flat plains now, and the sun at its zenith.

The little town of Bulls had a sense of humour: oval signs adorned many of the buildings with appropriate labels. The pub was "Hospita-bull", an antique dealer "Collecta-bull", and so on. They didn't stop, though. Reese was back in the driver's seat and had the bit between his teeth. Wellington or bust. They passed the turn off for Palmerston North, "The most boring city in the world," Cassie said dismissively. "Though the joke around here is that it's the only city in the world that gets it milk from Bulls. Geddit?" The fields were indeed full of dairy cattle again.

They kept blasting south, making good time on straight flat roads. The surrounding fields grew lumpy, full of inexplicable humps. Joss was looking at the guide book again. "We're getting back towards the coast," she said. "Those are fossilised sand dunes."

A range of hills was rising to their left, gradually coming closer as they moved south. They were on a coastal strip, narrowing bit by bit until they were at last within sight of the sea again. The sun, halfway towards the horizon now, sparkled off the water. Reese flexed his shoulders again and kept driving.

To be continued….


	29. Chapter 29

**Hello, all. My very deepest apologies for the very, very long wait for this chapter. I started a new and challenging job a couple of months ago, which hasn't left much time for writing, and for the last month I have been struggling to recover from a nasty bout of flu, which has left my energy levels at about zero. And then the Muse upped and left. This chapter has been dragged from her practically one sentence at a time, and I must say I'm not that happy with it. Still, anything to get the show back on the road… I repeat, I _will_ finish this story. But please be patient with me as RL intervenes and inspiration dies on occasion. Anyway, for those who can't quite remember where we were up to, John and Joss are heading for Wellington, in the first instance to deliver young Cassie, rescued when she missed her bus in Taupo, back to her parents...**

As they approached Wellington the light fell softly on the hills. Smooth and green, they looked like velvet cloth, like the curves of a woman's body. Cassie sighed happily as she gazed out at them.

"I always love these hills," she said. "They always seem to be exactly what hills ought to look like." Carter suppressed a smile. They had climbed up away from the coast where the hills finally met the sea, turning inland. The setting sun was off behind their right shoulders, and over in the east the sky was just beginning to take on a blue-violet tinge. John kept the car barrelling along the road, no longer twisting, four lanes wide and heading a little down hill.

"So, Cassie – where in Wellington are we headed?" asked Joss.

Over in the back seat Cassie's shoulders hunched a little: the realisation that she was slinking home broke, unemployed and dependent on the charity of strangers hitting her, perhaps.

"In about fifteen, twenty minutes we'll get to the exit for Johnsonville," she said a little reluctantly. "That's the one we want."

They followed the road, found the exit and then Cassie guided them through a series of suburban streets which wound up increasingly steep hillsides. When they crested the last hill the sun was almost down and the first few lights were coming on. Wellington Harbour lay spread out before them, tranquil and tinged violet in the evening light. Out to the left a flat valley criss-crossed with strings of lights marking the main roads lay in the embrace of the hills; the harbour with its two small green islands was in front of them, leading out to a narrow harbour entrance and more sea beyond. Over to the right, Wellington city itself lay around the edge of the harbour; a cluster of taller buildings marked the city centre while the residential suburbs rambled over rugged green hills covered with trees.

"Here it is," said Cassie suddenly. John pulled the car over. Cassie's home, perched on the highest point of the road, was a modest single storey wooden house painted pale green with a grey roof. It seemed to sit hunched defensively between two huge, architecturally-designed places. "Mum and Dad bought bare land here and built the house when they first got married," Cassie explained. "The big places came after." She gazed pensively out at the view, then shook herself and said, "So, would you like to come in? Mum and Dad would like to meet you."

They exchanged a glance, John's eyebrows flicking up in enquiry. Joss gave a tiny shrug. "Sure," said John.

He helped Cassie get her bag out of the trunk and they made their way down a concrete path to the front door. Cassie pressed the doorbell. There was a pause and then the porch light flicked on and the door opened.

The woman who opened it was older than Joss had expected. Her hair, once dark, was now mostly grey and her face was lined. She wore a plain cotton tee in a pretty pale turquoise and jeans, and her face lit in a smile when she saw Cassie.

"Cassie, love! You're here! I was getting worried..."

Cassie seemed embarrassed at the warmth of her mother's welcome. Her father arrived at this moment: a tall, stringy man with white hair wearing a plaid flannel shirt, his face aglow with a smile.

"Come in, come in," he added to his wife's invitations. He reached over to take Cassie's bag and the whole crowd of them moved down a narrow passageway and into the living room.

The room was dominated by a huge picture window which looked out on to the whole magnificent sweep of hills and harbour and twinkling city lights, while a doorway led into the kitchen. The dining area was right next to it, the table positioned to face that marvellous view.

Cassie introduced them to her parents – Robert and Sue - and launched into the whole doleful story of her argument with her boyfriend, her abandonment in Taupo and her rescue by Joss and John. With a sideways glance at the two of them, she skipped the story of their encounter with the escaped prisoner.

"So your job is gone?" asked Robert.

Cassie grimaced. "'Fraid so. I'll head on in to Student Job Search in the morning and see if there's anything doing. Maybe someone needs babysitting or something."

"Mm." Her father examined his hands. "I'll ask around. Hopefully something will come up." He raised his eyes to Joss. "Thank you so much for looking after Cassie, Joss, John. It restores your faith in humanity, to find kind people in this sort of situation."

"Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?" asked Sue.

Joss was just about to reply when she was distracted by a rumbling vibration. Surely a heavy truck wouldn't be coming up the narrow, precipitous street they had just driven up? The room began to vibrate, the rumbling grew louder and the vibrations turned into a rocking sensation. There was a sudden jerk, as though the whole house was a subway car pulling away from a station. With a first-time driver in charge. A series of crashes came from the kitchen, and then a snapping sound as the picture window cracked from top to bottom. The rumbling died away and the shaking stopped. Overhead the light fitting was swaying gently. Joss looked up to see both of Cassie's parents standing in the living room doorway and Cassie under the dining table. She and John were both still rooted to the sofa.

"Shit," said Cassie from under the table. She emerged, her hair awry.

Robert and Sue, from the doorway, let out long breaths. "I'm not disagreeing with you, Cassandra," said Sue shakily. She moved across to the kitchen to inspect the damage. Feeling she ought to be doing something, Joss moved to offer her help. The kitchen cupboards were all hanging open, and there was a mess of spilled flour and pasta on the floor, mixed up with a broken bottle of wine and what looked like olive oil. Sue went to fetch broom and mop while Joss knelt and began carefully picking the larger pieces of broken glass out of the disorder.

"I'm sorry about this," came Sue's voice as she began to sweep up.

Joss cocked an eye at her. "You're apologising for an earthquake? It's not exactly your fault, Sue."

Sue snorted. "I suppose you can tell everyone at home you've had a real New Zealand experience, earthquake included."

From the living room they could hear voices as John and Robert inspected the broken picture window. There was the chime of the front doorbell. Cassie answered and there were more voices: neighbours checking on each other. Footsteps tramped through to the living area. With all the glass cleared up Joss couldn't do much else to help Sue out, so she retreated back out to the living room.

"...I think I might have a couple of pieces of plywood big enough in the garage," a man was saying and Robert nodded appreciatively. Over the next twenty minutes John helped manoeuvre two big sheets of plywood from the neighbour's and get it in place while Robert and the neighbour nailed it to the window frame. When they had finished they all paused.

"How big was that quake?" asked Joss into the silence.

"Fairly big," said Robert grimly. "High five or a low six on the Richter Scale, I think."

"At least it wasn't the Big One," said the neighbour. Robert grunted agreement.

"The Big One?" asked John.

"Wellington's built on a massive fault line," supplied Cassie. "Kind of like San Francisco. In the 1840s there was a huge quake which lifted the whole region by about three feet and demolished the city. Which wasn't as bad as it sounds because it was only a few years after Europeans had arrived here to settle, so there was very little city _to_ demolish. But everyone in Wellington knows that there'll be another quake on that scale some day. So every time you hear that rumble, you wonder if this time it's going to be the really big quake."

There was a little silence, and then suddenly without warning a little jolt hit the house again. There was a tinkle of broken glass from behind the plywood. Joss jumped, but it was over so quickly no-one moved.

"You don't need to worry about that one," said Robert with a nervous chuckle. "That was a tiddler, probably only about a three or four."

Sue sat down suddenly on the sofa. "A couple of years ago we had that cluster of quakes, remember? The aftershocks went on for weeks, nearly drove me mad."

The neighbour gave a tense smile to Robert and Sue. "If you guys are okay I'll get moving now. Bit of a mess to clean up at my place, ay."

"Yeah, thanks Jeff," said Robert and showed him to the door. As he did so, John shot Joss a glance and raised an eyebrow. She took the hint.

"Sue, Robert, we'd better get on our way too. Unless there's anything else you could use a hand with?"

"No, no, we're fine," said Sue. She seemed torn between the need to be polite and an impulse to retreat into her home and family – some fundamental desire to retire to a safe haven. They moved down the hallway towards the door. "Thank you for all your help, I'm so sorry-"

"It's just fine, Sue," Joss said soothingly as they passed the threshold. As they reached the car she turned to see Cassie come flying down the path.

"Joss! Thanks for everything!" The girl gave Joss a quick hug. "And John. Thank you, thank you." She hesitated, and then gave him another quick hug before letting go and stepping back. "Oh, and sorry for beating you at poker." She smirked, and Joss was amused to see him give a very slightly pained smirk in reply.

"Goodbye, Cassie," he said as they climbed into the car.

As they turned the car in the narrow street Joss fiddled with the car radio until she found a public service channel. They set off down the hill, trying to find their way back to the main road in the gathering dark.

According to the radio the quake had measured 6.2 and had been centred on a small town at the top of the South Island, Seddon, which had also had the misfortune to be at the epicentre of the swarm of quakes Cassie's mother had mentioned. The local citizens must be about ready to abandon the town, Joss couldn't help thinking. On the other hand, no deaths and no serious injuries had been reported as yet, although the local rail service was shut down while tracks and tunnels were checked.

"You ever been in an earthquake before, John?" she asked.

"Yeah, once. In Afghanistan." He smiled a little to himself before continuing. "We were trying to get from one village to another in Helmand, but the roads were out. Our squad leader managed to get hold of some horses for us, just ponies really, which was fine for most of us. They were all mares and geldings except for one stallion, which he assigned to me 'cause I was the biggest guy there and he thought it wouldn't give me as much trouble. And I was getting along fine with this thing because my feet were practically touching the ground either side and it was getting too tired to fight me when there was this rumbling and then the shaking started."

"Oh." She could imagine the scene. "What happened next?"

"Oh, those horses went absolutely nuts. Bucking, rearing… my pony just bolted along the trail. When it all stopped I was about a quarter mile away with little stones still pinging down the hillside and dust everywhere. Couldn't see the rest of the squad, couldn't see much at all. We finally got ourselves together and kept going but there were little landslides everywhere and the trail had nearly disappeared… got into the village way late for our rendezvous, but luckily the helo had waited for us."

"You're lucky you didn't go over a cliff or something."

"Yeah, I guess the horse had that much sense… being late for extract was a blessing for some, 'cause the helo crew spent the time helping out the villagers… the place was pretty much destroyed by the quake. It seemed wrong to be jumping on that chopper and rising up into the sky, just leaving devastation behind us… but what can you do?"

What indeed, Joss wondered. There were times when her own job seemed like that. You arrived to a scene of death and destruction, you did what you could, but in the end you just had to call it quits and disappear from the scene as suddenly as you had arrived. Not that different from what John and Harold did, in some ways. She smiled to herself. Time was, she'd have rejected that idea indignantly. Funny how the years could change you… she glanced at John's profile, lit by the street lights as they drove. She liked to think he was changing too, old wounds healing over. He felt her eyes on him, glanced briefly at her and then returned his attention to the road ahead, smiling a little.

"So, Carter – you gonna find us somewhere to stay tonight?"

"Mm. True." She got out her phone and started to look for a motel for the night.


	30. Chapter 30

**Okay, so thanks everyone for bearing with the long hiatus this story has undergone. The muse dried up entirely on it, and for the last week or so when I came back to it I only seemed to be able to write 100 words at a time, punctuated with long periods of staring blankly at the screen. But here's another chapter, anyhow. Thank you Elaine0510 for pricking my conscience and getting me back onto it. For those who can't be bothered going back to refresh their memories, John and Joss have just experienced a good old Wellington earthquake, but are back on the road again...**

Back on the main road, they found themselves heading steeply downhill, following a massive gorge. Joss was still checking her phone for motels. "The closest ones seem to be out in the Hutt Valley," she said. "When we get to the bottom of the gorge, turn left."

Reese did so, and they headed north, harbour on their right and precipitous hills on the left. Joss navigated them off the major route and into the mix of retail, light industrial and accommodation which made up this part of the valley.

The motel she picked out for them was built around a big old wooden colonial mansion; the sort that called itself 'charming' – with an element of truth in this case. As they presented themselves at the booking desk a tiny rattle, like a heavy truck passing, made everyone jump nervously. The guy behind the counter gave them a rueful smile. "Just arrived in town, have you? I suppose you know about the excitement earlier?" he said.

"Oh, yes," said Joss. "We were visiting with some folks in a house right up on the top of the hills. It was quite an experience."

"Yes, it would be, up there," agreed the man. He passed them a key. "I checked through the units after the quake hit, and everything's fine, but if you find anything out of order just let me know, okay?"

They nodded thanks and left the office to find their room.

The motel units were mostly placed around a large courtyard. As they unpacked the car, a plump black and white cat scuttled along the path past their unit door, gave them a suspicious look and darted around a corner. Inside the room was a tiny kitchen, a double bed and a minuscule bathroom. But the flat screen TV on the wall was a recent model, the curtains and bed coverings were new, and the art works on the wall were of local scenes: the beach front at Petone, a ferry leaving Wellington for the South Island, clouds over the hills surrounding the harbour. All in all, the place conjured up _cosy_ rather than _cramped_. Joss seemed to approve, dumping her bag on the shelf for it and flopping onto the bed. Reese thought she looked alluring, but there was just one problem…

"I'm hungry, Joss."

"Oh, good." She looked at him from under her eyelashes.

"No, really. I'm starving." It had been a long time since lunch in Taihape. His stomach gurgled loudly.

Joss sat up. "Okay, John. Let's go find what's open in this town."

They made their way back to the motel's desk to ask for directions. The black and white cat was sitting on top of a stack of phone directories on the desk, obviously a regular haunt. It seemed less nervous now, allowing Joss to stroke it while Reese asked where the nearest restaurants could be found. Armed with the information they needed, they were back in the car headed for the main business area, Jackson Street.

This turned out to be an older area of town, once gently shabby but now gentrified. The street awnings usual in New Zealand stretched over the concrete sidewalks. Not many people were about, but a number of businesses had lights on despite being closed. Owners checking their properties after the quake, Reese guessed.

They ambled along the street passing several restaurants – a pub offering karaoke and local lager, Indian and Chinese restaurants and a little French place.

"Have you seen anything you like yet?" murmured Reese plaintively.

Joss smiled. "Okay, okay. How about this place?" It was a tiny little restaurant with the unusual name of "K. Sing", and it offered Southeast Asian cuisine. By now Reese would have eaten horse meat without complaint (actually it wasn't that bad), and so they went in.

They were met by a slim young Asian girl in a shirt decorated with the flags of Thailand, Laos and Cambodia. She smiled and led them to one of the half dozen tables ranged along the pale yellow walls of the restaurant. She passed them two menus. "I must apologize. Some of our dishes are off the menu right now – we lost a number of ingredients in the quake. They all ended up on the floor," she ended mournfully.

"I'm sure we'll be able to find something," smiled Joss. "We're just glad to find somewhere open."

"Well, may I suggest you start with the roti with peanut sauce," she said. "You can decide on your mains while you eat."

"That sounds great," said Reese.

Reese spotted Massaman curry on the menu, but despite the presence of pad Thai Joss went for a Vietnamese dish called "Plear", a spicy beef salad. Reese spotted her taking surreptitious gulps from her water glass and smirked. His own meal was pretty hot, near the upper range of what he liked in truth, but he was coping fine. When he tried to order a beer he found the restaurant couldn't supply one, though - their liquor licence only allowed people to bring their own. Never mind; they would find a bar, he decided. They were pleasantly surprised at the small size of the check, and wandered back down the street hand in hand.

POI*POI*POI*

Joss was happily replete as they walked back up Jackson Street to where they were parked. But as they passed the pub with the karaoke John's steps slowed. "Feel like a beer?" he asked.

She didn't really, but she smiled at that gorgeous profile and said, "Oh, all right. Since you insist," in mock-resigned tones. He smiled back and they went in.

The karaoke didn't seem to be happening tonight, and the place was pretty quiet. The bar tender was still sweeping out behind the bar – a huge mess of broken glass. The smell of spirits from all those broken bottles almost made Joss want to beat a retreat back out onto the street, but John was intent on his beer. It wasn't long before they were ensconced in a booth by a window looking out onto the street.

"What do you think we should do tomorrow?" she asked as he took his first sip with a happy sigh. She herself was staying with non-alcoholic right now; she had plans for later in the evening.

John's eyebrows flicked up. "You're the one with the guide book," he said. "What do you suggest, Detective?"

She poked her tongue out at him. "I'm not a detective here, John. I'm on vacation." But she reached into her purse for the dog-eared guide book.

A group of guys walked past them, heading for the bar. The bar-tender, finished with the broom, served them and turned the big-screen TV on when they asked to see the game. Rugby, of course. Joss returned her attention to the book.

"Well, if the weather's nice we could drive up to the top of Mount Victoria, which has some amazing views out across the harbour and down to the South Island. There's the National Museum, too. Oh, and Weta Workshops – you know they did all the special effects for _Avatar_ , and the Lord of the Rings movies and a whole lot of other stuff too. They do tours, every day."

"Uh huh," said John. He seemed distracted. "Joss, give me your phone?"

"Why?"

"Because I broke mine yesterday when we were with Cassie and I haven't replaced it yet," he said evenly.

Mystified, Joss took it out and passed it across to him. She went back to her book. "Or there's the Cable Car up to Kelburn, which is a picturesque part of town – pretty old houses and more great views. There's a nice little cafe at the top which is great for a snack before you head back down the hill."

John wasn't listening. "Where's Red Rocks, Joss?"

She frowned and flicked through the book.

"Never mind, I just found it," said John as he jabbed and swiped at the screen of her phone. He put it down, picked up his beer and drained it. "C'mon, we gotta go."

"Wait, what?" But before she could protest further he had grabbed her hand and was pulling her out of the booth and was striding for the door.

As they got out onto the street she reclaimed her phone from him. "John, what the hell is going on?"

"I'll explain when we get back to the motel," he said. His brow was furrowed and she had to hustle to keep up with his lengthening stride.

"This better be good, John."

He glanced down at her face and gave her the tight smile he seemed to reserve for times of action. Like when he was hot on the trail of a Number.

 _Oh, great. We come 9,000 miles for a vacation, and he still manages to find trouble. Somehow._

She upped her pace to a jog, staying alongside him as they made for their car.

POI*POI*POI*

When they got back to the motel she was seething with annoyance. John had remained tight-lipped about whatever the hell it was that had set him off. She closed the car door with more than necessary force, sending the motel cat scuttling off around its corner with a hurt glance at them. When they got inside and shut the door she stood with her arms folded, glaring at him.

"Okay, John. How come you've got a hair up your butt all of a sudden?"

He sat down on the bed. "There's a crime going to take place tonight. We have to decide what we do to stop it."

Joss refused to allow herself to be stampeded by this announcement. "And just how did you come to be aware of this?"

"Those guys who came into the bar. They were talking among themselves."

Her brows rose. "How could you even hear them? They were over at the bar!"

He shrugged. "Just a knack, I guess. But listen, Carter. They said they were going to shoot someone, tonight, at Red Rocks."

"Woah. Just hold on a minute. Tell me what they said."

"One of them said, 'Are we on for tonight?' And the other guy said yes, he had the girl. And the first guy said okay, we'll shoot her tonight at Red Rocks. When I looked it up on your phone it turns out it's away on the south coast, way out from the city itself. Rugged. Not very accessible, at least not by vehicle. My guess would be that they'll kill this woman and then dump her in the sea."

Joss sat for a moment. "We have to tell the police, John."

He shook his head. "I don't think that will help. They probably won't believe us, and by the time we get to talk to anyone with the authority to act it'll be all over." He gave her one of those piercing looks that seemed to go straight through her chest. "We could save someone's life, Joss. Or cost them it."

Joss knew this feeling. John had the bit between his teeth, and all she could do was come along for the ride and hope to keep him out of trouble.

"Finch will probably kill us if we get tangled up in something here. You know that."

He still had the deathly serious look on his face, and she knew it was useless to protest further. "Okay, John," she said sighing. "What do you have in mind?"

 **To be continued. Honest. Of course, lots of reviews help…. ;-)**


	31. Chapter 31

"Okay. So what do you have in mind?" asked Joss.

Reese hesitated. Truth to tell, he wasn't utterly sure. Operating without weapons on unfamiliar ground was not ideal. "We're going to have to get out there before them. Take a look at the ground and find somewhere to lay up. Then stop whatever they're trying to do."

Joss rolled her eyes. "Nothing like a good, solid, detailed plan," she murmured.

He shrugged and smirked. "Always gotta be ready to improvise," he murmured in return.

Joss sighed. "Sadly, I'll have to allow you to demonstrate that later. If we're going to get out there before your bad guys, we need to hit the road now."

They were greeted by Motel Cat as they went out the door, arriving and rubbing against Reese's leg as he locked up. Joss bent and ran a hand along the animal's back which it evidently enjoyed; an audible purr arose, accompanied by golden eyes gazing adoringly at her. "Lay off, she's mine," Reese told it. As they settled into the car, he leaned over and brushed his lips across Joss's ear. Just the notion of action was aphrodisiac, he thought as he reversed around to drive out of the motel.

Joss was up on her phone with a map of the route out to Owhiro Bay, where the walking track to Red Rocks began, and she navigated him onto the freeway into Wellington City and then through city streets until they reached Oriental Parade. The road wound along the edge of the harbour, precipitous hills on the right and the sparkling water of Oriental Bay on the left. A full moon was up by now, the last glow of the sunset lingering in the western sky. Huge pohutukawa trees lined the street on the water side. Reese was a little disappointed to see that the flowering season for them was almost over. As they drove along, a fountain out in the bay suddenly started up. Coloured lights turned the water green, then blue, then red and back to green.

"Wow! that's pretty," exclaimed Joss. Unable to spare his attention from the winding road, Reese could only grunt his assent.

The lights of the inner city were mostly behind them as they rounded a hairpin bend at the end of a promontory and Oriental Parade became Evans Bay Parade. They were heading south now. The water of the bay, darker where the hills blocked the moonlight, stretched across to the Miramar Peninsula out to their left. The lights of the airport made a glow out ahead of them. Suddenly Reese braked hard. A group of little, slate grey penguins with white tuxedoes was waddling across the road in front of them. Bemused, he and Joss watched as they crossed road and sidewalk and disappeared into the shadows of someone's front garden.

They drove on along the coastline, past the forest of masts at the marina and then losing the water as they crossed the narrow neck of flat land where the airport nestled. Then it was past the end of the runway - waves broke on the great slabs of concrete where the last dozen yards had been reclaimed from the sea. Reese was sorry for any pilot trying to land long and wondered how many planes ended up in the sea in any given year. The road carried them along more coastline, past more houses clinging to the steep forested hillsides. The moon, now high in the sky, lit up the whole scene like a searchlight, rendering the pinkish street lighting unnecessary on this night at least.

"Can you tell me anything about this place we're headed for?" asked Reese as he drove.

"Mm, it's a public reserve," said Carter as she pulled up another page on her phone. "The rocks really are red, something to do with ancient lava flows. There's a seal colony there, bachelor males who haven't attracted a mate at the breeding colonies in the South Island. Luckily they're not very aggressive, there being no babies around. It's a mile or so from the car park to the rocks. Steep hillsides dropping down to a rocky shoreline. Popular with hikers and mountain bikers."

"Not at this time of the night, I hope," said Reese grimly.

"If it's the kind of place someone would plan a murder, I guess not," agreed Joss.

At last they saw the sign for the scenic reserve and pulled the car into the gravelled parking area. Reese killed the headlights.

"Listen to me," said Joss as he made a move to get out. She skewered him with a gaze. "You are _not_ , I repeat, _not_ to raise one finger until you see someone about to commit a crime. You hear me? The last thing we need is to get involved with the local law enforcement. Got it?"

Reese gave her his very best smirk as he undid his seatbelt and opened the door. "Understood, Ma'am."

Joss gave him a mock glare, then got out too. They paused a moment, appreciating the cool, salty breeze coming off the sea, and then walked hand in hand into the darkness, stepping over the heavy chain which bocked vehicular access and making their way along the track.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

The walking track turned out to be a gravelled path wide enough to take a car, and to judge by the ruts and potholes it did indeed take vehicles from time to time. Joss felt herself relax as they walked along. The terrain was undulating, at least where they were walking, though only a few dozen yards to their right the hills rose almost sheer. A dozen yards to the left the waves surged against the rocks of the shore, withdrawing with a hiss. She should feel more pumped, the way John obviously did, but really it was just so pretty, the moon shining on the water, the silence aside from the soothing sound of the sea… she wondered if they would see more of the little penguins, or whether any seals would be awake. She'd never seen a seal aside from at a zoo.

She tried to wrench her thoughts back to more serious matters. Like how in the world John thought they could intervene in a murder completely unarmed as they were. Throw rocks at the bad guys? At last they reached the next promontory. A sign loomed out of the darkness, proclaiming that they had reached the Red Rocks Nature Reserve; there was information on the local flora and fauna which they did not bother to read. The rocks themselves, a dingy brown in the moonlight, were tumbled half in and half out of the surf – great slabs tilted this way and that and seamed like enormous stacks of frozen pancakes. No sign of any seals, though.

They stopped and surveyed the scene. Next to her John stared hard at the terrain and then led her up towards some rocks and bushes hugging the base of the hills, very close to the shore just here. As they settled down to wait on the cold, hard stones she voiced her thoughts to him. "What are you going to do, John? Throw rocks at them?"

His brow furrowed and he gave one of his tiny shrugs. "Not a bad idea, Carter."

"Pfft." She poked her tongue out at him and he grinned and pulled her in closer. In silence, they sat and waited.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

Reese propped his back against the slab of rock and allowed himself to relax and enjoy the warmth of Carter's body against his. It was partial compensation for the cold seeping into his back and butt from the stones. Even in the middle of summer the night air was cool as it wafted in from the sea. The minutes slipped past and stretched into an hour or more. Carter seemed to have fallen into a doze and he dipped his face towards her hair, inhaling the perfume which never failed to comfort and excite him in equal measure.

At last there was movement along the walking track. He nudged Carter awake. Two men were approaching, strolling along in the moonlight. They were talking in low voices, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. One had his hands in his pockets while the other, for some reason, had an iPad out and was scanning it around, apparently filming the setting. They reached the rocks and walked around a little. More low-voiced conversation. The iPad waved around some more. A suspicion began to form in Reese's mind. One of the men settled to wait, leaning up against a rock kicking his heels against it while the other, the one with the iPad, continued to patrol around filming things.

Another couple was approaching. Another man, a woman with him. She seemed to be coming willingly enough. Reese's mouth was set in a tight, straight line. She exchanged greetings with the guy waiting by the rocks, then disappeared behind one of them, still trailing her escort.

Carter was looking up at him expectantly, one eyebrow arched. Time to put his plan into action. He cast around on the ground next to their hiding place, plentifully supplied with sea-washed stones. He found a couple of smooth round ones of the right size, drew back his arm and flicked one with great accuracy at the man leaning on the rock. It hit him on the fleshy part of his calf.

"Shit!" The guy flinched and jumped, rubbing at his leg. Reese followed up his throw with a second. It missed, but hit the rock right next to the man.

"Who the hell is that?" the man yelped. "Bloody kids..." He marched up the hill towards where Reese and Carter were hiding. They hunkered down in silence, and as he came past Reese rose silently and clapped a hand on either side of the man's neck. In a couple of seconds he was a limp bundle hanging in Reese's hands. Reese lowered him gently to the ground. "That's one taken care of, anyhow," he murmured.

Carter was staring at him with a mixture of displeasure and admiration. "Remember I told you not to lift a finger unless there was a crime about to be committed? And where did you learn that trick?"

"From a former Stasi agent. I was on the receiving end," he said. "Besides, I think I know what's going on here. They're filming a snuff movie."

"You think they're going to kill that girl and film it?" Carter looked nauseated.

"Don't know why else they're waving that iPad around."

The woman emerged from behind the rock, followed a moment later by her friend. They were both a lot more than half naked.

"Where's Garry?" he heard the woman say. The man shrugged his shoulders as the guy with the iPad reappeared.

"Where's Garry?" repeated the woman.

iPad Guy looked around. "Buggered if I know," he said. "Garry! Gaaaarrrryyyyy!"

They waited for a response.

"Crap," said iPad Guy. He looked up at the moon, by now nearly at its zenith. "The light's pretty good. Let's make a start without him."

He directed the half naked pair onto a large flat rock and took up a stance with the iPad at the ready.

"Okay. Action!"

Carter glared up at Reese. "I'm not seeing any snuff movie here, John. Just plain old amateur porn." Her eyes narrowed. "What exactly did they say in the bar back there?"

Reese, trying to ignore what was going on over on the rock, cast his mind back. "Umm… one said 'Do you have the girl?' and when the other said yes he said 'Great. We'll shoot her tonight at Red Rocks.'"

There was a pause, punctuated by exaggerated grunts and moans from over by the sea. "John," said Joss though clenched teeth, "Did it ever occur to you that 'she' might refer to the movie, not the girl?"

Reese's cheeks flushed. Yes, New Zealanders and their Aussie cousins did refer to all manner of things as 'she'. The words died in his throat as he gave a weak smile and an extremely embarrassed shrug.

Seeing his expression Carter sighed. "I guess there's only one way to be sure." She rose from her hiding place and marched out towards the scene being… enacted… in front of them.

"Excuse me, Miss," she said to the woman on the rock, "but are you okay?" Something in her cadence, the universal tone of Law Enforcement, made the trio pause.

"Um… yes, I'm fine," said the woman as the man's buttocks stopped waving for a moment.

"Like, you're here of your own free will?" persisted Joss.

"Well, yes. They're paying me five hundred bucks for this." She shifted her attention back to the man on top of her. "Can we get on with it, it's bloody cold!"

The man with the iPad glared at Joss. "Yeah, we'll have to start again though. Will you get the fuck out of the way?" he added to Joss.

Joss shot an annoyed glance at Reese and jerked her head meaningfully in the direction of the track back to the parking lot.

It was a very quiet walk back.

To be continued...


	32. Chapter 32

When they arrived back at the parking lot Joss held out her hand silently for the car keys. Just as silently John surrendered them. He slumped in the front seat next to her as she manoeuvred the car out onto the road and set about retracing their route back to the Hutt Valley and their motel.

As she drove her anger gradually ebbed away. She stole a glance sideways. John was staring straight ahead, the passing street lights casting shadows across the planes of his face. He looked miserable.

After a while they were back in the central city, heading out towards the road north. They passed the Wellington Stadium, known to the locals as "The Cake Tin" because of its close resemblance to a giant piece of bake ware. Then they negotiated their way onto the entrance ramp for the State Highway and settled into the drive along the harbour's edge. Finally Joss could stand it no more and broke the silence.

"You wanna know when I first started to fall in love with you?" she asked.

John was silent, so she took this as assent.

"It was back when you marched into a downtown Marshals' office and assaulted four of 'em. You were after that guy Jennings, the one who was abusing his wife, remember?"

He was still silent.

"Actually, I tell a lie. When Donnelly told me I couldn't believe my ears. In fact the first thought to enter my head was 'I can't leave him alone for one damn minute without him doing something like this...' And then Finch called me in a panic that evening to get me to go after you, stop you doing something terrible. But when I caught up with you you were all 'I'm gonna do what's right, do what's necessary, you can't stop me.' Which was true, but I thought all kinds of awful things for the next week. Then your prison warder down south of the border called me up..."

She stole another glance at him. He was still staring straight ahead with a wooden expression on his face. But Joss knew he was listening.

"I guess what it comes down to was that I realised that here was a guy who would go absolutely ballistic when someone threatened a woman. And when you see the kinds of things I do, week in, week out – well, you kind of appreciate that in a man."

The wooden expression was softening, Joss was relieved to see.

"So. Tonight, you made the wrong call. We went off on a wild goose chase, we didn't save anyone, we just got to see a couple of people humping on a rock. But my grandma told me something once – the Lord would rather see you do the wrong thing for the right reason than the other way round. Tonight, you did the wrong thing. But it was for the right reason. You wouldn't be you, you wouldn't be the man I love, if you didn't go all out to save someone you thought needed saving. So I guess what I want to say is, don't stop being you. Don't stop trying to save people. Even if once in a while you mess it up. Okay?"

They finally pulled up in front of their motel unit and got out. Motel Cat appeared and wound around Joss's legs as John unlocked their door, but it refused her blandishments and turned away to stalk off into the night, satisfied that it had seen the guests safely inside. As the door closed behind them, John turned and took her in his arms, folding her in close and breathing deeply into her hair. He still hadn't said a word. But she knew as she hugged him back that he was okay.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

The next day dawned bright and clear. Reese was still dozing comfortably when a single sharp jolt rattled the building and brought him abruptly wide awake. Beside him Joss stirred. "Did the earth move for you, honey?" she murmured sleepily. He grinned, remembering the night's activities. Though not the debacle at Red Rocks, his mind carefully skirted that one…

"So what's up for the day, Joss? You had some ideas over dinner last night."

She grinned back at him. "I was thinking Weta Workshops, remember they had those tours? And then lunch somewhere nice. The weather looks like it's going to be gorgeous."

After the motel-supplied breakfast they hit the road into Wellington.

"Did you ever see the Lord of the Rings movies?" Carter asked him.

"Yes, actually. Finch made me come with him to a Lord of the Rings marathon a theatre in Brooklyn put on one weekend…."

" _You've never seen them, John? But_ The Lord of the Rings _, in my opinion, is one of the great literary works of the twentieth century."_

 _Reese shrugged and continued cleaning the Barrett sniper rifle. Several hand guns waited their turn on a side table. Not much else to do, the Numbers having dried up for nearly a week now. He was always mildly amused when Finch tried to enhance his cultural education; he still had his gifted copy of de Tocqueville's_ Democracy in America _at home. Unopened._

" _Admittedly, I've heard bad things about the movies as adaptations of the books, but visually they're supposed to be superb." Finch paused. Slightly more awkwardly he added, "And they might take our minds off… other things."_

 _Right. Other things like the virus which was slowly but surely taking down The Machine. Reese surrendered. "Okay. As long as there are no subtitles this time."_

 _And so they found themselves sitting in a slightly run-down little theatre munching popcorn for nearly nine hours. Reese found the movies mildly amusing. The fight scenes were totally unrealistic in his opinion – during the slow bits he beguiled himself with rerunning them in his head and figuring out all the ways he could have brought them to a quicker and in many cases more satisfactory conclusion. This also helped to drown out the grumbling from Finch, who was vocal in his disdain for the liberties the film-makers had taken with the plot. Finch, it seemed, was a Tolkien purist. As they emerged onto a twilight street, turning their collars up against the chill, Finch was loudly proclaiming, "No. I can never forgive them for what they did to Faramir's plot line. I don't think Jackson really understood the material he was working with..." This drew stares from some of the other patrons exiting with them, and Reese had to distract him with the offer of dinner at the Lyric._

The memory brought a smile to his lips, even as they drove along part of their route out to Red Rocks the previous evening. The waters of the harbour sparkled in the sunshine as they passed the spot where they had seen the penguins. They turned left instead of continuing straight on, though, skirting the other end of the airport runway – really the thing was like an aircraft carrier sunk between two sets of hills. Up on the hillside was a giant sign saying "WELLINGTON", but with the letters being blown away by an imaginary wind. Joss followed his gaze up to them. "Oh yeah. I was reading about that last night. It seems they wanted a sign like the Hollywood sign, but there was a big public backlash, not to mention the owners of the real Hollywood sign threatening legal action. So they got that one instead. They're real proud of the movie industry hereabouts." But Reese was forced to switch his attention back to the road as they made their way into the suburb of Miramar, home to the special effects company.

"Into" was quite literally true – there was a steep hill between the peninsula on which the suburb sat and the flat isthmus with the airport, but the road punched straight through, the hill cut away on both sides.

They found some parking along a side street a short walk from Weta Workshops. It turned out to be easily distinguished from surrounding buildings – there was a huge model troll standing outside, right next to the parking reserved for tour buses. When they got inside they found a cheerful young man staffing the booking counter, located in a fairly extensive shop aimed at parting more tourists from more money. There were two tours on offer – one of the main premises, with an emphasis on the design for the Lord of the Rings movies, the other of an ancillary site with an emphasis on model making and the Thunderbirds reboot. There was a small discount for taking both, and so with a glance over her shoulder at him Carter paid for the combo for both of them.

They had a few minutes to spare, and so they wandered around the shop for a little while. This proved on closer inspection to be almost a mini museum in its own right, with models and concept art from several different moves displayed among the merchandise. Joss spent a little while browsing the different t-shirts on offer for something for Taylor. Reese was more interested in the models – weapons for instance. Or the characters from the movies. His eye was caught by a foot high rendition of Gandalf. The wizard was standing with his staff thrust out before him, eyes blazing. You could almost hear him saying "You shall not pass!" He suddenly thought of Finch – a wizard if ever there was one. On impulse he took it over to the counter and paid for it. Well, it was Finch's money anyhow.

Joss caught his eye and gave a meaningful jerk of her head towards the entrance. Their tour was about to begin.

Another cheerful young man, very tall and skinny, was waiting for them out on the street outside the entrance. Three or four other tourists were gathered there too, waiting for this first tour of the day.

"Hi, I'm Jordan. I'm your guide for today..." he ushered them a few yards along the sidewalk and opened a door in the long, plain wall of the Workshop. Inside they found themselves in a small, high-ceilinged room with plain white walls and, disconcertingly, a row of human heads on a shelf way up under the roof. Their guide, who seemingly worked as a graphic designer at the Workshop, explained the heads had been studies for one of the films Weta had worked on – Reese didn't catch which one. But they were soon through the door into the first of the displays. This showed the development of one of the weapons used in the movie _District 9_. It was a strange, bulky looking gun which they were allowed to pick up and pass around – one of the only times they would be allowed to touch anything, their guide warned them. Reese thought it looked like a nightmare to have to use, poorly balanced and short-barrelled. Though if it was meant to be used by an alien, maybe that didn't matter so much. He and Joss were both staggered at the number of trials the designer had had to make to get the finished prop to its final form – over five hundred.

Next there was a succession of rooms holding models and props from several different movies – The Lord of the Rings trilogy, more of _District 9_ and an abortive movie adaptation of the Halo computer games. One of the vehicles from Halo was cool – a huge gun mounted on the back. Apparently two Weta staff members had been granted permission to use it for their wedding, but had required a police escort to reassure the ordinary public about the armed beast driving through their streets.

It sure looked like Weta was a fun place to work. Lots of the staff, Jordan said, were lucky enough to be essentially working at their hobbies, and the studio was available to them on weekends and evenings to work on their own projects. They peered through a window in one wall to see an armourer making a knife at a work bench. A little further on, two technicians were adding hairs, one by one, to a gigantic bee for a museum exhibit. Rounding another corner, they were confronted by a giant man-sized white rabbit with great yellowed teeth and mad eyes. It had been a prop for a children's TV show, Jordan said - "kind of like _The Twilight Zone_ for kids". All Reese could think was that children's programming had obviously changed since _he_ was a kid. The end of the forty-five minute tour came a lot sooner than he realised, and they were spat back out onto the side walk next to the little bus which would take them to the other tour.

To be continued….

[Three guesses what I did on my holidays… :-)]


	33. Chapter 33

As they got back in the car Joss was smiling to herself. She supposed it was only logical that John had been a huge fan of Thunderbirds as a kid. She had to admit to a soft spot for them herself, despite Taylor's open derision for the special effects. When she pointed out the awful tackiness of it all to John he had gotten defensive and claimed that you never even noticed the strings holding up the marionettes because you were so engrossed with the storyline. She suddenly had a vivid mental image of a young boy, maybe eight or nine years old, sprawled on the floor in front of a TV set. Unruly black hair, those cheek bones just starting to emerge from the puppy fat, blue eyes… Had John's eyes already shown that intensity as he gazed at the heroes of International Rescue, willing them on to another unlikely victory? _Well, duh. This is John we're talking about here. Of course_ _they_ _did_ , she thought to herself.

They retraced their journey back towards the city. There was a more direct route back in, through a tunnel under Mount Victoria, the high hill which lay between the airport and the city centre. But really it was just so pretty driving along the rocky shoreline that they decided to go with it. Joss's stomach was starting to beg for lunch as they rounded the promontory back towards Oriental Bay, and when she said as much to John he pulled the car over next to a small block of shops which boasted a café. There were tables out front and even on the other side of the road right next to the shore.

The lunch rush was just starting, Joss could see, as a couple more cars pulled up, filling the last two parking spaces.

"I'll get us a table," she said, nodding towards the tables by the shore. "Why don't you go get us some food?"

John nodded and they parted company as she turned to find a table.

There was something just magical about sitting just a couple of yards away from the tumbled brown rocks and the glitter of the water. The air was salty and the sun warm on her shoulders. She was glad of the cool breeze which took the edge off it. The water was deep blue almost right up to the shore. There was a hypnotic "shhhhhhh" as the waves filled the little rock pools, a pause and then a "sssssss" as the water drained away again. She kept glancing around hoping to see the little penguins, but the only bird life was a pair of small grey and white seagulls strutting along the sidewalk among the tables looking hopeful. Across the harbour she could see the steep green hills falling sheer into the water, the tiny glittering dots of cars moving along the road hugging the shore. White puffy clouds sailed slowly and across, the harbour's water a darker blue-green where their shadows fell. It was simply so delightful to just sit here, no dramas, no danger, no emerging crisis to deal with.

John was approaching, crossing the road holding a metal stand with a number for the wait staff. He was grinning broadly as he paused to let a car go past. Joss couldn't help but admire the expression: rare, but all the sweeter for it when it did appear.

"You look happy," she said as he slid into his seat and plunked the number in the middle of the little table.

"There's a guy in there with a guitar," he replied. "Singing a song about how his daughter has a boyfriend with enough piercings to set off an airport metal detector. I got to thinking about Taylor."

"Will you let go of that!" she said in vexation. "It was one earring, that's all." Then she noticed him smirking and had to smile. Sighing a little, she dug in her bag for her sunglasses and slipped them on. "So what did you order me?" she asked, changing the subject.

"A local thing – a lamburger. Sounded nice from the menu, anyhow."

When it arrived – two of them, actually – it was: a hamburger but with the meat patty made from lamb instead of beef, with an accompanying salad and curly fries. They ordered coffee when they had finished and sat nursing their cups and listening to that "shhhhhhhh….sssssss" of the water, the cries of the gulls and the quiet buzz of conversation from around them.

At last, Joss forced herself into action. "C'mon, John. Day's a-wasting." They threaded their way back to the car.

Their route back through the middle of town took them past the Cake Tin again. Something was obviously on – there were crowds of people making their way towards the stadium, many of them in costume. Joss' head yanked round involuntarily at the sight of four men strolling along arm in arm and clad in identical lime-green Borat-style mankinis. They were blowing kisses to the passing traffic. Beside her, John noticed her double-take and smirked again. Joss couldn't resist getting out her phone and trying to figure out what on earth was up. John braked to a halt at some traffic lights and they watched more costumes parade before them as people crossed the road: Wonder Woman, Big Bird from Sesame Street, a Viking with a large and hopefully fake axe, and a bunch of cheerfully overweight fifty-something women skimpily dressed as cheerleaders. There was definitely a party going on…

"Ah," she said, enlightened. "Seven-a-side rugby. Seems there's an international circuit, and the Wellington Sevens is one of the tournaments. Got a reputation for the costumes and general party atmosphere."

"Looks like they're having fun," agreed John. They pulled away from the traffic lights and continued on their way.

"You know, I could use a new phone," John said, changing the subject. He steered them back onto the by now familiar road back to the Hutt Valley. Oh yes, Joss remembered. His other one had gotten broken by Brian the stinky escaped prisoner a couple of days ago now.

"Yeah," she agreed. "I'm a little surprised Finch hasn't called checking up on you."

"I guess he can see you're still ticking," said John easily. "I bet he monitors the news feeds from wherever we are and makes sure there's no mayhem being raised."

"Wonder what he'd do if he thought we were in trouble?" Joss said.

"Maybe send Shaw out after us," John said with a shrug.

"Hmm. I'm not so sure," said Joss. "Did you think there was anything funny going on with Shaw before we left?"

John stole a glance at her as he changed lanes to get past a slow-moving truck. "No. Why?"

"No reason," she said. "She just seemed… off, somehow. After that brush with British Intelligence."

John shrugged a little. "Can't say I noticed anything."

 _Well, no, you wouldn't. You're a man,_ she thought to herself. But something was up with Shaw, she thought. She decided to make sure she cornered the woman and got the story out of her once they got back.

The afternoon passed pleasantly enough buying John a new phone – though it seemed an extravagance to get one for only a week or so. They'd gone fairly easy on Finch's credit cards, though, so… what the hell.

Lower Hutt wasn't tourist territory, so the shopping wasn't that interesting. Nice gardens though, Joss thought as she flicked through her phone to find them a place for dinner that night. They were seated on a park bench overlooking a little stream which ran between low banks through some municipal gardens right in the middle of town. Roses were in full bloom in beds set in neatly manicured lawn. Ducks were foraging along the stream's banks and several sparrows had hopped past, fixing them with beady, hopeful eyes before deciding that there was no food in evidence and flitting off to some better prospect of a free meal. Speaking of meals…

She brought up her favourite website, which provided clickable maps with different places of interest. What was that one there? She read the note with increasing interest. "Listen to this, John. "In 1943 the St George's Hotel on the corner of Manners and Cuba Streets was being used as a club for Allied servicemen. Huh. I never realised there were Americans here during World War Two."

"I think they were here training for Guadalcanal," John said, not moving his gaze from the ducks upending themselves in the slow-moving stream.

"Mm. Anyway, 'On April 3rd 1943 soldiers from the southern United States objected to the presence of Māori servicemen and tried to deny them entry to the club. A large crowd of men gathered, both Māori and Caucasian, to uphold the right of the Maori soldiers to enter. During the standoff the Americans removed their belts to use as weapons, and the resultant riot raged for three hours and involved over a thousand men before it was broken up by civil and military police. News of the affray was suppressed under wartime censorship, leading to rumours that two American servicemen were killed.'"

"Mm," said John, still riveted by the ducks.

Joss said no more. Kind of nice to think that back when her grandmother had been looking over her shoulder back in South Carolina there were decent people somewhere, even a long way away… She sighed a little and returned to trying to find a place for dinner that evening.

Ah. Now _that_ place looked interesting… She noted the address and the route to get them there and then put her phone back into sleep mode.


	34. Chapter 34

Parking in downtown Wellington wasn't as bad as Manhattan. But then, nothing in the world was. Reese found them a place at last, probably most of a klick from Barrett's Hotel, the place Joss had selected for them. No matter, though: the night was warm and the streets busy as the crowds from the Sevens tournament continued the party. Some of the more outrageous costumes were still in evidence as they strolled arm in arm down Willis Street. There was a strange mix of buildings here: the old two and three storey structures still survived – or at least their ornamented masonry façades did. The office blocks which soared upwards from them seemed incongruous, like glittering alien plants sprouting from some ornate seed.

Reese glanced down at Carter and shortened his stride just little. It seemed such a miracle to be walking down a city street with this woman on his arm. So normal, so safe. No danger. No numbers. Just a night out with his lady. He'd even broken out the one suit he had brought with him in celebration.

"So where are we going, Carter?" he asked.

"Barrett's Hotel. It's one of the oldest in Wellington, which means it's about a hundred and fifty years old. The guy who built it was a whaler who arrived here and married a Māori woman. Then he acted as a translator between the early settlers and the local people. Seems he didn't speak the lingo too well, though, because both sides got sick of him and ran him out of town."

"Gotta wonder how he got on with his wife, then, if he couldn't speak Maori," Reese mused.

Carter smiled up at him. "Maybe she spoke English."

"Or maybe love has a language all its own," he intoned, smirking.

Carter smirked in return, but tightened her grip on his arm.

They found the place soon after – a three storey building, not in this case sporting a highrise section to dwarf the brick and masonry and wrought iron decorations on the verandah which ran the length of it. Warm yellow light and the sounds of laughter and conversation greeted them as Reese pulled the door open for Joss to walk through.

Inside was a large room with a polished wooden floor and exposed brick walls. A long bar ran the length of the room, which was thronged with people. A waitress directed them to the table Joss had booked for them, and they ordered drinks as they perused the menu.

Two hours later they were happily replete. Joss seemed to have almost overdosed on the triple chocolate brownie with hot caramel fudge sauce she had eaten for dessert. They sat sipping coffees.

"Where to from here?" asked Joss lazily.

Reese hesitated a moment before replying. It seemed a waste to call it a night after only dinner. And he had a sudden hankering for a boilermaker. "What do you say we go looking for some action?" he found himself asking.

Joss stopped tracing patterns in the remaining – and rapidly congealing – fudge sauce on her plate. "What kind of action?" she asked in mild suspicion.

"Music. Dancing. Booze."

"There's booze right here," she pointed out.

"But no action."

Which was true, this was much more a family kind of place, for all its roots as a watering hole for the rough and the tough over a century previously.

Joss's suspicion seemed to be increasing. "You want to get in a fight," she stated positively.

"I do not," he said defensively.

"Oh yes, you do. Why else did you put that suit on?" She was sitting bolt upright now and staring at him with her Detective Carter face on.

"I put it on to have a night out on the town with my lady," he said, beginning to bristle a little. "And it seems a little early to be going home. So let's find somewhere to let our hair down. We _are_ on vacation, after all."

Carter was still looking at him with her cop – or possibly, mother of teenager – expression. He returned her stare. Finally she broke. "Okay. We'll try to find somewhere to go dancing. But no fighting. Y'hear me?"

Reese smirked back. "Scout's honour." He virtuously ignored the eyeroll she bestowed on him.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

The place they found was really kind of quiet. Carter had vetoed the first couple of places, which was actually fine be him. They had wandered up Willis Street and then as far as Courtney Place, a wide street with low rises on both sides which was virtually a heaving mass of teenagers, many of whom were already pretty well drunk. Not fighting drunk, at least not yet. More, pavement-pizza drunk. The local cops were out keeping an eye on things, but Reese didn't like the feel of the place and neither did Carter. No threats, not to him and Joss, but it didn't take a psychic or an omniscient Machine to figure out that there would be work for the local medicos before dawn.

But down at the bottom of Courtney Place the crowds thinned out and they found the old Embassy Theater. It was a huge old cinema from the good old days when a thousand people could turn out to watch the latest studio offering – _Ben Hur_ maybe, or something by Cecil B de Mille. Now it was a multiplex of course, but the lobby was something to behold - all patterned tiles and red velvet hangings on the walls. Downstairs there was a bar with a dance floor. A place for grownups, too – no strobe lighting and a live band, a traditional keyboard drums and guitar outfit with a male vocalist.

He had his boilermaker, and Joss had a beer. It was past midnight by now and the throng on the dance floor was just beginning to thin out a little. The band started in on a new number, quiet and pensive. Joss slid off her stool and held her hand out to him. "C'mon, John. You wanted dancing, right?"

He smiled and joined her, the notes of the piano falling like raindrops around them.

 _I don't want to say 'I love you'_

 _That would give away too much_

 _It's hip to be detached and precious_

 _The only thing you feel is vicious_

 _I don't want to say 'I want you'_

 _Even though I want you so much_

 _It's wrapped up in conversation_

 _It's whispered in a hush_

Joss's arms were around him, and he pulled her closer until they were moving slowly and sensuously in a world of their own. The song wove its tendrils around them.

 _Though I'm frightened by the word_

 _Think it's time I made it heard_

 _So I'll sing it to the world_

 _Simple message to my girl_

 _No more empty self-possession_

 _Vision swept under the mat_

 _It's no New Year resolution_

 _It's more than that_

He bent his head and inhaled, yet again, the scent of her hair. He felt intoxicated, aware only of Carter, her soft body, the warmth and strength of her embrace. Sing it to the world. No more empty self-possession. Message to my girl…

"Will y' look at that. Ebony and fuckin' ivory." The jeering words cut through his introspection. He felt rather than saw Carter stiffen, the soft smile wiped from her face.

Three guys at the bar, he noted automatically. None appeared to be carrying, all slightly drunk. Two were turning back to their drinks, but the third was staring challengingly at him.

"Bad enough the fuckin' Maoris trying to grab every bloody thing, fuckin' niggers coming here as well. Why don' y' take her back where she came from."

"John. No." Carter was gripping his arm, her face imploring. The other bar patrons had fallen silent, although the band was still playing, unaware of the little drama. The bartender, who looked about eighteen, was staring in horror at her unpleasant customers.

The song ended in a little tinkle of notes. Seemingly sensing that something was amiss, the band was silent. The man at the bar, a big guy who had once been solid and was now running to fat (weren't they always like that?) continued to stare at Reese.

"John. Just walk away." Carter again. _I should beat the shit out of this bastard, Joss, but for you I'll let him go…_

He nodded slowly and began to turn away, tucking her protectively under his arm. A couple of other men, leaving their partners on the dance floor, were moving towards the drunken fool anyway. From the looks on their faces he was about to get tossed anyhow. Reese figured he could afford to leave this one, although it grated.

Thinking he'd won, though, the idiot came out with a parting shot. "So what's it like to fuck a chimpanzee?"

Dead silence, apart from guffaws from his two mates.

"I'm so sorry, Joss," murmured Reese as he let go of her. He pivoted on his heel and half a dozen quick strides brought him back across the dance floor to where his target was sitting, a look of smug satisfaction on his face. The expression didn't alter as Reese approached – he was deceived, perhaps, by the cheerful smile on Reese's face. Too drunk to notice the feral glint in the eyes. The guy probably realised his mistake as Reese's elbow slammed into his nose, but he didn't have long to contemplate the error because as he slid from his barstool he received a knee into his groin so hard it ruptured his balls. Any lingering shreds of consciousness fled as he hit the ground and an incredibly fast hard foot slammed into his ribs, breaking three. The whole thing was over in less than five seconds. The two friends were glued to their barstools as Reese turned to the less drunk of them. He leaned into the man's face, savouring the fear in his eyes.

"Take your friend to the hospital," he whispered. "He'll probably always be a racist piece of trash, but when he wakes up, tell him never ever to mess with me or mine again."

He spun about and walked back over to where Joss was standing, took her elbow and hustled her out.

A/N: the lyrics of the song are from "Message to my Girl" by the iconic Kiwi band Split Enz – which places me pretty accurately both in terms of time and geography! It's there on Youtube for those interested in it. Apologies again for another hiatus, but hopefully things will move a little more quickly for a while at least.


	35. Chapter 35

The crowds in Courtney Place were still humming as they dodged through them back up towards where their car was parked. Joss was crying silently, though Reese couldn't guess why. A night out ruined? The fact that he'd dealt to that bastard even though she'd asked him not to? Just the sheer rage and frustration of being the target of such hateful comments? Being a woman of colour must have exposed her to all manner of garbage over the years, long before he came on the scene. At last they were free of the revellers, walking up a relatively quiet street lined with darkened stores. A big old Gothic style church loomed ahead of them up where the roadway suddenly became much steeper until it petered out in flights of steps, defeated by the precipitous hillside.

Joss wiped her eyes. Reese slowed his pace a little to accommodate her, glancing down in concern.

"You didn't have to do that, you know," she said quietly.

"Yes, I did," he told her as gently as he could.

"The other guys in the bar were going to deal with him. You've just got into a world of trouble."

He shrugged impenitently. "If you think I'm ever going to let something as vile as that pass, Joss-"

"John." Her voice was flat. "You have just assaulted a man. A serious assault, in front of witnesses. Do you think the authorities are just going to ignore that? When he turns up at the hospital, the very first thing they're going to do is call the cops. We're pretty distinctive, John. Not too many interracial American couples in this town, at least not that I've noticed. If you want to avoid a probable prison term, we need to get out of the country. Tonight."

His stomach turned over as her words hit him. She was right, of course. He cursed himself. Maybe it really _was_ the damned suit. So easy to simply slip back into that mode, assume he could just fade into the shadows, lose himself in a New York crowd. His stride lengthened again, and soon Joss was trotting by his side to keep up. They made it back to the car without further incident, and he soon had them barrelling back along the motorway out to their motel in the Hutt Valley. Reese was running over in his mind what they would need to get out of the country. Some of their belongings were still back at Otama; too bad – they would have to abandon them. He felt sadder at the thought that they would also be abandoning the Joneses without a proper goodbye. That seemed wrong somehow. The whole thing was wrong, of course. All his fault.

They pulled in to the motel and he was out of the car unlocking the unit door almost before the engine died. Joss was back up on her phone checking available flights.

"Damn," she said quietly. "First flight to the States isn't till after ten tomorrow morning." She kept swiping and flicking at the screen. "Plenty of flights to Australia though. But the first one out isn't till 0600."

He glanced at his watch. "Four hours. It might be okay." But probably won't be, he thought. Four hours would be easily long enough for any half-competent police force to put a watch out for them at the airports. Carter glanced up sharply from her phone.

"It probably won't be," she said, echoing his thought. "We'll have to split up." She began packing methodically.

Reese mirrored her motions, numbly gathering clothing and stuffing it into his bag. Time was long gone when the only thing he travelled with was his Sig. His mind was going through the probable chain of events unfolding across town. The ambulance would have arrived at the local ER by now; the guy would have been triaged and sent through to a more thorough medical assessment. The friends would be spilling all they knew to the local cops. In another hour or so the surveillance footage would be being accessed, most likely. Not necessarily a big problem since Wellington wasn't particularly heavily surveilled. Just a few cameras in the most heavily frequented areas. The other witnesses in the bar, they would also be being interviewed, at least those who hadn't left in the wake of the whole incident. Another hour, maybe two, and the news media would be onto it…

Joss's phone chirped, and then settled into a ring tone which got louder and louder until she answered. Her brows rose as she listened to the caller and then set the phone down on the table, switching it to speaker.

"I suppose I should be thankful that the time difference makes it eight o'clock in the morning here," came Finch's crisp tones. "That was not particularly wise, Mr Reese."

Reese paused in his packing, and put his hands up in a gesture of surrender, even though Finch couldn't see it.

"You don't need to tell me, Finch." He couldn't resist adding, "I might have known you'd be watching."

Finch hesitated. "I keep an eye out," he said. "Though in this case it was the Machine who alerted me to your predicament. Root broke her silence and called me."

"Oh." He really didn't know what to make of that.

"Be that as it may, I imagine you have thoughts of skipping the country."

"That was the general plan," said Joss.

"Well, you needn't," said Finch. "I have it in hand."

"Uhhh..." began Joss.

"New Zealanders like to think of themselves as one of the least corrupt societies in the world, but I found out long ago that some problems really can be solved by throwing money at them," Finch assured them cheerfully. "The local law enforcement will find the victim unwilling to help, along with his associates. The eyewitnesses will give hopelessly conflicting accounts of the perpetrator, and the surveillance camera footage will be mysteriously corrupted, or at least so Root assures me."

Reese paused in his packing. "So we're good to stay?"

"For the remainder of your vacation, yes. But please don't be tempted to prolong it past the three weeks. Detective Fusco is becoming tired and Miss Shaw seems to be under the weather too."

"So that gives us one more week," said Joss.

"Indeed," replied Finch. "And since it's rather late where you are – or maybe that should be early – I shall leave you to your own devices. But do please try not to hospitalise anyone else during your visit, Mr Reese."

Reese opened his mouth to reply to this, but Finch had already rung off. He and Joss were left staring at each other across their suitcases.

POI*POI*POI*POI*

They slept late that morning, waking to another day of bright sunshine. When Reese finally got up to collect the motel-supplied breakfast and complimentary morning newspaper from outside their door, Motel Cat was waiting and strolled in, arching her back as he ran a hand along it. There was no reference in the paper to the assault at the Embassy Bar, he was unsurprised to note. He said as much to Joss.

"I can't imagine how much money Finch must have hosed out to handle the whole situation," she said. "That guy's medical bills alone..."

"He won't have to worry about those," said Reese. "They have single-payer health care here. That bastard won't pay a dime for his hospital stay."

"Mm." Joss applied herself morosely to her cereal.

"So what's up for today?' he asked her as he spread his Vegemite on his toast. He was getting quite a taste for the stuff, he thought.

"I was hoping to see more of Wellington," she replied slightly tartly. "But I don't feel too happy about staying here after last night. We need to decide what we're going to do. Turn north again, or go take a look at the South Island?"

"Well, like I said before, I've always found heading south to be highly rewarding," he said with a smirk. The smirk broadened to a grin as he saw the blush spreading on her cheeks.

She shot him a Look from under her perfect eyebrows. "According to the guide book, the best way to get from here to the South Island is on one of the ferries across Cook Strait. It's fairly cheap, the ferries make several runs each day, we can take the car across and we see some amazing scenery on the way. What do you say?"

"Sounds great, Carter. Let's do it."

POI*POI*POI*POI*

The motel had a late check-out, which was a blessing. The next ferry sailing was at two o'clock, and so 1 pm found them carefully manoeuvring their vehicle up a ramp into the echoing belly of the roll-on-roll-off ferry _Aratere_. Once the car was stashed and secured they made their way up into the more civilized parts of the ship. This proved to contain a bar, which Reese promised himself they would visit later – his hankering for a boilermaker had not been sated by the previous evening – a number of observation lounges and restaurants, and a children's play area. This latter place was already ringing with delighted screams from the occupants; they bypassed it and moved outside. The city was spread around them and the harbour was flat and calm as the clanks and bangs from the lower deck signalled that the last of the cars and trucks had been stowed and the ramp was being raised. The big ship's engines, which had been turning over quietly for much of the time, rose in tone to a whining rumble and the ship began to move slowly away from the wharf. Several inquisitive seagulls dipped and wheeled over their heads as they picked up speed and charted a gentle curve away from the shore and out into the harbour, leaving a wide white wake behind them.

They leaned on the rail and watched the city slide past them. Mount Victoria was soon hidden behind the hills of the Miramar Peninsula. Small waves broke white on the rocks at the foot of the hills. The water seemed shallower here; rocks poked up a few inches above the waves, and black cormorants perched there, their wings spread to dry before another fishing expedition. Joss had her phone on the ship's wifi. "That's Barrett's Reef, she said. "Named after the unsuccessful interpreter. Huh. Seems that nearly fifty years ago one of these ferries ran aground on it, trying to enter the harbour during a storm. More than seventy people died."

"That's not very encouraging, Carter," he murmured. Still, they seemed to be keeping a safe distance from it today.

As they reached the harbour entrance the wind picked up. One of the seagull escorts appeared to hover for a long moment almost within arm's reach of the rail, perfectly balanced on the wind before it veered away. The smoothness of the harbour's waters gave way to a slow steady pitching as the ship met the waters of Cook Strait and began heading almost due west. The rocky southern shore of the North Island began to recede.

They retreated inside and found one of the cafés for a snack. Joss ordered a smoothie while Reese tried a sausage roll: pastry around a sausage filling. It wasn't too bad. Afterwards they went back outside and leaned on the rail some more, simply enjoying the sunshine. The sun was still high in the sky, just starting to edge west as they entered the mouth of Tory Channel and slid southwards between the high hills of the Marlborough Sounds. The calm waters were an amazing deep green. Reese fingered the toki around his neck, almost the same colour. Joss saw the gesture. "I was reading the other night that the old Maori name for the South Island was 'Te Wai Pounamu' - the Greenstone Waters," she said. "The book said it was because that's where the greenstone was sourced, but if this was the first sight that people got when they travelled here, I have to wonder." They leaned over the rail again, examining the transparent depths.

"Oh, look!" Joss exclaimed delightedly. She pointed. There at the ship's side was a pale flash in the water, just flicker gone almost too swiftly to be seen. As they watched, there was another, and then several at once. Then a sleek grey back breached the surface and they both saw it clearly: the dorsal fin of a dolphin, quickly joined by another. There was a whole pod of them, all surfing along in the wave generated by the ship's passage. They watched the dolphins as they wove around one another in the water, peeled away and rejoined the ship, breached and plunged. The bush-clad hills grew closer and the water became clearer and shallower until at last their escort faded away and returned to the deeper water. The ferry slowed and finally came to a halt, chugging motionless in the water and then turning ponderously to back into its berth at the little town of Picton. The westering sun was warm. Reese was reluctant to leave the rail to go fetch the car and drive it down the ramp, casting one last long look over his shoulder at the gorgeous greenstone water. Still, they had arrived.


End file.
